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“The face . . . was exactly like a Jack-o’ -Lantern’s” 


(See p. 40] 


The Ethel Morton Books 


ETHEL MORTON’S 
HOLIDAYS 


fc. SM' 


MABELL S. C. SMITH 



THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY 

NEW YORK 



Copyright, 1915, by 
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY 





MAR 27 1917 


©CI.A4G0040 

*wo 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I Preparations 9 

II The Witches’ Cave and the Fairies’ 

Palace 19 

III Hallowe’en 31 

IV Miss Merriam 52 

V The Football Game 66 

VI '‘The Courtship of Miles Standish” . 81 

VII Elisabeth Makes Friends 93 

VIII The Good Ship “Jason” 107 

IX Christmas Day 119 

X New Year’s Eve 143 

XI Ethel Brown’s Birthday . . . . „ 160 

XII Lincoln, Lee and Peace 168 

XIII Valentine’s Day 180 

XIV Washington ......... 190 

XV St. Patrick’s Day and the First of April 196 

XVI April 19 and 23 209 

XVII West Point 228 

XVIII Graduation and Fourth of July . . .237 


* 

\ 

i 


ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


CHAPTER I 


PREPARATIONS 



HE big brown automobile gave three honks as 


A it swung around the corner from Church 
Street. Roger Morton, raking leaves in the yard 
beside his house, threw down his rake and vaulted 
over the gate. 

“Good afternoon, sir,” he called to his grand- 
father, saluting, soldier fashion. 

“Good afternoon, son. I stopped to tell you that 
those pumpkins are ready for you. If you’ll hop in 
now we can go out and get them and I’ll bring you 
back again.” 

“Good enough!” exclaimed Roger. “HI tell 
Mother I’m going. She may have some message 
for Grandmother,” and he vaulted back over the 
gate and dashed up the steps. 

In a minute he was out again and climbing into 
the car. 

“Where are the girls this afternoon?” inquired 
Mr. Emerson, as he threw in the clutch and started 
toward the outskirts of Rosemont where he had land 
enough to allow him to do a little farming. 

“Helen and Ethel Brown have gone to the West 
Woods,” replied Roger, accounting for his sisters. 


10 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


‘‘Somebody told them that there was a wild grape- 
vine there that still had yellow leaves bright enough 
for them to use for decorating to-morrow evening.” 

“I should be afraid last night’s frost would have 
shriveled them. What are Ethel Blue and Dorothy 
up to?” asked Mr. Emerson. 

Ethel Blue was Roger’s cousin who had lived with 
the Mortons since her babyhood. Dorothy Smith 
was also his cousin. She and her mother lived in a 
cottage on Church Street. 

“They must be over at Dorothy’s working up 
schemes for to-morrow,” Roger answered his grand- 
father’s question. “I haven’t seen them since 
luncheon.” 

“How many do you expect at your party?” 

“Just two or three more besides the United Service 
Club. James Hancock won’t be able to come, 
though. His leg isn’t well enough yet.” 

“Pretty bad break?” 

“He says it’s bad enough to make him remember 
not to cut corners when he’s driving a car. Any 
break is too bad in my humble opinion.” 

“In mine, too. How many in the Club? Ten?” 

“Ten; yes, sir. There’ll be nine of us to-morrow 
evening — Helen and the Ethels and Dorothy and 
Dicky and the two Watkinses and Margaret Han- 
cock. She’s going to spend the night with Doro- 
thy.” 

“Anybody from school?” 

“George Foster, the fellow who danced the min- 
uet so well in our show; and Dr. Edward Watkins 
is coming out with Tom and Della.” 


PREPARATIONS 


ii 


“Isn’t he rather old to come to a kids’ party?” 

“Of course he’s loads older than we are — he’s 
twenty-five — but he said he hadn’t been to a Hallow- 
e’en party for so long that he wanted to come, and 
Tom and Della said he put up such a plaintive wail 
that they asked if they might bring him.” 

“I suspect he hasn’t forgotten how to play,” 
chuckled Grandfather Emerson, speeding up as they 
entered the long, open stretch of road that ended al- 
most at his own door. “Any idea what you’re going 
to do?” 

“Not much. Helen and Ethel Brown are the 
decoration committee and I’m the jack-o’-lantern 
committee, as you know, and Ethel Blue and Doro- 
thy are thinking up things to do and we’re all going 
to add suggestions. I think the girls had a note 
from Della this morning with an idea of some sort 
in it.” 

“You ought to get Burns’s poem.” 

“On Hallowe’en?” 

“We’ll look it up when we get to the house. You 
may find some ‘doings’ you haven’t heard of that 
you can revive for the occasion.” 

“We decided that whatever we did do, there were 
certain stunts we wouldn’t do.” 

“Namely?” 

“Swap signs and take off gates and brilliant jokes 
of that sort.” 

“As a Service Club you couldn’t very well crack 
jokes whose poind: lies in some one’s discomfort, 
could you ?” 

“Those things have looked like dog mean tricks 


12 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


to me and not jokes at all ever since I saw an old 
women at the upper end of Main Street trying to 
hang her gate last year the day after Hallowe’en.” 

“Too heavy for her?” 

“I should say so. She couldn’t do anything with 
it. I offered to help her, and she said, ‘You might 
as well, for I suppose you had the fun of unhanging 
it last night.’ ” 

“A false accusation, I suppose.” 

“It happened to be that time, but I had done it 
before,” confessed Roger, flushing. 

“You never happened to see the result of it be- 
fore.” 

“That’s it. I just thought of the people’s surprise 
when they waked up in the morning and found their 
gates gone. I never thought at all of the real pain 
and discomfort that it may have given a lot of them.” 

“Your Club may be doing a good service to all 
Rosemont if it proves that young people can have 
a good time without making the ‘innocent bystander’ 
pay for it.” 

“We’re going to prove it; to ourselves, anyway,” 
insisted Roger stoutly, as he leaped out of the car 
and took his grandfather’s parcels into the house. 

“The pumpkins are in the barn,” Mr. Emerson 
called after him. “Go down there and pick them out 
when you’ve given those bundles to your grand- 
mother.” 

The big yellow globes were loaded into the car — 
half a dozen of them — and Mr. Emerson drove back 
to the house. As he stopped at the side porch for a 
last word with his wife he gave a cry of recognition. 


PREPARATIONS 


13 


“Look who comes here 1” he exclaimed. 

“Helen and Ethel Brown,” guessed Roger. 
“Don’t they look like those soldiers we read about 
in ‘Macbeth’ — the fellows who marched along hold- 
ing boughs in their hands so that it looked as if 
Birnamwood had come to Dunsinane.” 

“Roger is quoting Shakespeare about your personal 
appearance,” laughed Mr. Emerson as he and his 
grandson relieved the girls of their burdens. 

They sank down on the steps of the porch and 
panted. 

“You’re tired out,” exclaimed their grandmother. 
“Roger, bring out that pitcher of lemonade you’ll 
find in the dining-room. How far have you 
walked?” 

“About a thousand miles, I should say,” declared 
Helen. “We were bound we’d get out-of-door deco- 
rations if they were to be had, and they weren’t to be 
had except by hunting.” 

“You’re like me — I like to use out-of-door things 
as late as I can ; there are so many months when you 
have to go to the greenhouse or to draw on your 
house plants.” 

“Ethel Blue and Dorothy have been educating the 
Club artistically. They’ve been pointing out how 
much color there is in the fields and the woods even 
after the bright autumn colors have gone by.” 

“That’s quite true. Look at that meadow.” 

Mrs. Emerson waved her hand at the field across 
the road. On it sedges were waving, softly brown; 
tufts of mouse-gray goldenrod nodded before the 
breeze; chestnut-hued cat-tails stood guard in thick 


i 4 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

ranks, and a delicate Indian Summer haze blended all 
into a harmony of warm, dull shades. 

“You found your grapevine,” said Roger, pouring 
the lemonade for his weary sisters, and nodding to- 
ward a trail of handsome leaves, splendidly yellow. 

“It took a hunt, though. What are you doing 
over here?” 

“Getting the pumpkins Grandfather promised us.” 

“You’re just in time to have a ride home,” said 
Mr. Emerson. 

“You’re in no hurry, Father; let the girls rest a 
while,” urged Mrs. Emerson. “Can’t you make a 
jack-o’-lantern while you’re waiting, Roger?” 

“Yes, ma'am, I can turn you out a truly superior 
article in a wonderfully short time,” bragged Roger. 

“He really does make them very well,” confirmed 
Helen, “but it’s because he always has the benefit of 
our valuable advice.” 

“Here you are to give it if I need it,” said Roger 
good naturedly. “We’ll show Grandmother what 
our united efforts can do.” 

So the girls leaned back comfortably against the 
pillars at the sides of the steps and Mrs. Emerson 
sat in an arm chair at the top of the flight and Mr. 
Emerson sat in the car at the foot of the steps and 
Roger began his work. 

“It’ll be a wonder if I make anything but a failure 
with so many bosses,” he complained. 

“Keep your hand steady, old man,” teased his 
grandfather. “Don’t let your knife go through the 
side or you’ll let out a crack of light where you don’t 
mean to.” 


PREPARATIONS 


1 S 

“Be sure your knife doesn’t slip and cut your 
fingers,” advised Mrs. Emerson. 

“Save me the inside,” begged Ethel Brown. “I’m 
going to try to make a pumpkin pie.” 

“Save the top for a hat,” laughed Helen. “I’ll 
trim it with brown ribbon and set a new style at 
school.” 

Roger dug away industriously under the spur of 
these remarks. 

“Is this the first year you’ve had a Hallowe’en 
party?” Mrs. Emerson asked. 

“We used to do a few little things when we were 
children,” Helen answered; “but for the last few 
years we’ve been asked somewhere.” 

“And with all due respect to our hosts we did a lot 
of the stupidest and meanest things we ever got let in 
for,” declared Roger. “I was telling Grandfather 
about some of them coming over.” 

“So we made up our minds that we’d celebrate as 
a club this year, and do whatever we wanted to. 
There’s a lot more to a party than just the party,” 
said Ethel Brown wisely. 

Her grandmother nodded. 

“You’re right. The preparation is half the fun,” 
she agreed. “And it’s fun to have every part of it 
perfect — the decorations and the refreshments as 
well as whatever it is you do for your main amuse- 
ment.” 

“That’s what I think,” said Helen. “I like to 
think that the house is going to be appropriately 
dressed for our Hallowe’en party just as much as we 
ourselves.” 


1 6 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“Why doesn’t your club give a series of holiday 
parties?” suggested Grandfather. “Make each one 
of them a really appropriate celebration and not just 
an ordinary party hung on the holiday as an excuse 
peg. I believe you could have some interesting times 
and do some good, too, so that it could honestly be 
brought within the scope of your Club’s activities.” 

“We seem to have made a start at it without 
thinking much about it,” said Roger. “The Club 
had a float, you know, in the Labor Day procession.” 

“I didn’t know that!” exclaimed Mrs. Emerson. 

“You were in New York for a day or two. 
Grandfather supplied the float! Why, we had just 
come back from Chautauqua a day or two before 
Labor Day, you know, and the first thing that hap- 
pened was that a collector called to get a contribu- 
tion from Mother to help out the Labor Day proces- 
sion. I was there and I said I didn’t believe in taxa- 
tion without representation. He laughed and said, 
‘All right, come on. We’d be glad to have you in 
the procession.’ ” 

“You were rather disconcerted at that, I suspect,” 
laughed Mrs. Emerson. 

“Yes, I was, but I hated to take back water, so I 
said that I belonged to a club and that I supposed he 
was going to have all the clubs in Rosemont repre- 
sented in some way. He said that was just what they 
wanted. They wanted every activity in the town to 
be shown in some shape or other.” 

“There wasn’t time to call a meeting of the club,” 
Helen took up the story, “so Roger and I came over 
and talked with Grandfather, and he lent us a hay 


PREPARATIONS 


i7 


rack and we dressed it up with boughs and got the 
carpenter to make some very large cut out letters — 
U. S. C. — two sets of them, so they could be read on 
both sides. They were painted white and stood up 
high among the green stuff and really looked very 
pretty. Everybody asked what it meant.” 

“I think it helped a lot when I went about asking 
for gifts for the Christmas Ship,” said Roger. 
“Lots of people said, ‘Oh, it’s your club that had a 
float in the Labor Day parade.’ ” 

“If we should work up Grandfather’s idea we 
might have a parade of our own another year,” said 
Helen. 

“Always co-operate with what already exists, if it’s 
worthy,” advised Mr. Emerson. “Don’t get up op- 
position affairs unless there’s a good reason for doing 
it.” 

“As there is for our Hallowe’en party,” insisted 
Roger. 

“I believe you’re right there. There’s no reason 
why you should enter into ‘fool stunts’ that are just 
‘fool stunts,’ not worth while in any way and not even 
funny.” 

“We’d better move on now if Grandfather is to 
take us over and get back in time for his own dinner,” 
said Roger. 

“Don’t forget that volume of Burns,” Mr. Emer- 
son reminded him. 

“Thank you for speaking of it. I shouldn’t have 
thought of it again,” and Roger dashed into the 
house. 

He came back empty-handed, however. 

34 


1 8 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“I took a peek in and I couldn’t make head or tail 
of that Scottish stuff,” he confessed. “I’m afraid 
you’ll have to make out a list of Brother Burns’s 
stunts if you don’t mind,” he begged. “We’d like 
to have some of the really old fashioned ceremonies 
if we knew what they were.” 

“I’ll write some of them out for you and take them 
over in the morning,” promised Mr. Emerson. 
“Come, girls, can you pile in all that shrubbery with- 
out breaking it? Put the pumpkins on the bottom 
of the car, Roger, and the jacks on top of them. 
Now be careful where you put your feet. Back in 
half an hour, Mother,” and he started off with his 
laughing car load. 


CHAPTER II 

THE WITCHES' CAVE AND THE FAIRIES' PALACE 

I T seemed to the Mortons especially fortunate that 
All Hallowe’en came this year on a Saturday, be- 
cause it gave them the opportunity to prepare for 
their festivity with greater thoroughness than if it 
had been a school day. 

Thoroughness was one of the characteristics of the 
Mortons as a family. Roger and Helen and Ethel 
Brown and Dicky were the children of Lieutenant 
Morton of the Navy and their cousin, Ethel Blue, 
who lived with them, was the daughter of Captain 
Morton of the Army, so that all the young people 
had been brought up with service ideas of persever- 
ance and carefulness. Dorothy Smith, whose mother 
was a sister of Captain and Lieutenant Morton, had 
lived a wandering life until the past summer at Chau- 
tauqua had re-united Mrs. Smith with her family and 
had given the Mortons a new cousin in Dorothy. 
Poverty was now a thing of the past with the Smiths, 
but Dorothy would not soon forget the habits of 
carefulness that had been fostered by necessity. 

The Mortons had not always lived in Rosemont. 
Like all Navy children they had always been ready 
during all their childhood to pack and go at brief 
notice to any new station to which their father was 
ordered. Ethel Blue went with them, for she had 
19 


20 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


been in her Aunt Marion Morton’s care all her life 
as her mother had died when she was a tiny baby. 
When, however, Roger came to be of high school age 
with Helen soon to follow him, Lieutenant Morton 
decided that it was best for so large a family to have 
a permanent dwelling place, and they had settled 
upon Rosemont, New Jersey, because Mrs. Morton’s 
father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Emerson, lived 
there. There were good schools and it was near 
New York with its advantages, while at the same 
time it was far enough from the city for the air to be 
fresh and the people united in town interests. 

Roger was now in his last year at the high school 
and Helen in her second, while the Ethels and Dor- 
othy would graduate from the grammar school in 
June. 

Dicky’s school career had begun the summer be- 
fore in the Chautauqua kindergarten and was being 
continued in a new Montessori school just opened 
in Rosemont. Already he was astonishing his family 
with his new acquirements. They had long since 
ceased to be astonished at his independence of spirit 
and at the initiative which made him undertake all 
sorts of matters which children of his age usually be- 
gin only on the suggestion of their elders. 

Dicky was giving his family the benefit of his 
opinions on decorations for All Hallowe’en on this 
Saturday morning. 

“What’th Hallowe’en?” he had inquired. 

“The night when witches and fairies and elves are 
very lively,” answered Ethel Brown, tucking a spray 


THE WITCHES’ CAVE 


21 


of bittersweet over a curtain pole and standing back 
to observe the effect. 

“Mary thayth there aren’t any witcheth.” 

“There aren’t. But it’s fun to pretend there are.” 

Dicky’s face cleared. It had disturbed him to 
think that either Mary, his old nurse, whose word 
was law to him, had been mistaken, or that Ethel 
Brown had more recent information on the subject of 
these mysterious, invisible creatures. 

“You jutht going to pretend to-night?” 

“That’s all. No matter what you see or hear you 
needn’t be afraid. It’s all just pretend.” 

“Where you going to pretend their houthe ith ?” 
demanded Dicky, his practical mind at work on pro- 
viding comforts for the witches for whom he now 
felt a friendly responsibility. 

“That’s a good idea,” Ethel Brown instantly said 
to Ethel Blue. “Let’s fix up one room as a witches’ 
cave.” 

“And another as the home of the fairies.” 

“The cave ought to be dark and goo-ey.” 

“And the fairies’ house ought to be bright and 

gay. •” 

“We’d better take the dining room for the cave; 
the paper is darker to start with.” 

“And the high woodwork.” 

“Fill the doorway with boughs. Don’t you know 
how explorers always have to push into caverns 
through overhanging boughs,” contributed Roger. 

“That’s good. We can put a lot of hemlock 
there.” 


22 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“And more hemlock inside.” 

“And hang a piece of black cambric on the wall 
with a skull drawn on it in phosphorus. It will shine 
in the darkness.” 

“At one end of the room hang a black drapery with 
white cloth stars and crescents fastened on it.” 

“How shall we light it? Electricity or gas would 
be altogether too bright.” 

“That’s the place to burn a pan of salt wet with 
alcohol. It makes the queerest green light you ever 
saw. It makes everybody look ghastly.” 

“I move you, Madam President,” called out Dor- 
othy to Helen who was the president of the United 
Service Club to which they all belonged, and whom 
the members liked to address occasionally in this for- 
mal way, “that we do the Witches’ Cave first.” 

“That’s a good idea. We know just what sort of 
material we want for that and when it’s done we can 
see what we have left for the other rooms.” 

They all set to work on the dining room. Mrs. 
Morton, passing through, as they finished, remarked 
that it was a dreary sight. 

“I rather hate to think of dining here, I must say,” 
commented Mrs. Morton. 

“That’s a great compliment to our success, Aunt 
Marian,” laughed Ethel Blue. 

“If Dr. Hancock would only lend his skeleton ro 
James and Margaret it would be just the right 
finish,” sighed Helen, gazing with satisfaction at the 
result. “Aunt Louise is laughing at the idea.” 

“I call this a very successful room,” smiled Mrs. 
Smith. “Do you approve, Dicky?” 


THE WITCHES’ CAVE 


23 

“Mary thayth witcheth have black catth,” he re- 
minded the decorators. 

“So they do ! We’d forgotten the cats.” 

“What can we do about them?” 

“Dorothy has made some stuffed cats for the 
Christmas Ship. We might borrow them for the 
occasion. It won’t hurt them at all if we put them 
up high where no one will touch them.” 

“They aren’t black,” objected Dorothy. 

“We’ll have to pretend they were some adopted 
cats. Isn’t there a story about cats turning black 
after they’ve lived with the witches a while ? How 
about that, Dicky?” 

“I don’t know. I’ll athk Mary,” and Dicky trot- 
ted off to the kitchen to secure the desired informa- 
tion. 

“I believe Margaret said she had some black cats 
on a red background — paper ones,” said Helen. 
“I’ll call her up and ask her.” 

“Mary thayth the catth that run away from home 
are any color and that they turn black becauthe they’re 
living with wicked witcheth,” announced Dicky, re- 
turning from his search for information, just a bit 
wide-eyed over the naturalness of Mary’s explana- 
tion. There seemed also to be possibilities of dan- 
ger in it for small boys who wandered too far away 
from the front yard. If the witches caught them 
their color might change like the cats’. There had 
been times when he had gone farther away than 
Mary had thought wise. Was it possible he had had 
a narrow escape? Perhaps after all Prudence was 
worth cultivating. 


24 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“Let’s call the dining room done,” decided Roger. 
“Where shall we go now, Madam President?” 

“Let’s do the reception room as the Fairies’ Pal- 
ace. It ought to be bright, and we haven’t suitable 
decorations for it, so we must take a small room.” 

“Any way, Hallowe’en is mysterious and the house 
ought all to be in a half light,” said Aunt Louise, 
who was making paper roses for the fairies’ pal- 
ace. 

“That’s so. We’ll have just one very bright place 
for the fairies, and I should think the light of the 
jack-o’-lanterns would be enough for the rest of the 
house, shouldn’t you ?” 

“Certainly quite enough for the hall and the living 
room.” 

“Here’s for the fairies’ palace, then, Come on. 
Let’s decide what we shall put in here,” and Ethel 
Blue ran to the little room beside the front door and 
scrutinized it carefully, the rest looking over her 
shoulder. 

“It must be as bright as we can have it, in the first 
place,” she decided.” 

“That means we mustn’t cover up the lights in any 
way.” 

“We ought to increase them if we could.” 

“Is there any sort of reflector we can get hold 
of?” 

“I have two or three of those Japanese wind 
glasses at home,” said Mrs. Smith. “They are slips 
of glass, you know, and they shine in the light and 
make a soft tinkling when a breeze blows them 
against each other.” 


THE WITCHES’ CAVE 


25 

“Fairy music!” cried Ethel Blue. “Oh, may we 
have those, Aunt Louise?” 

“Dorothy can run home and get them now. And, 
Dorothy, there’s a handful of fuzzy tinsel, the 
Christmas tree kind, in the long drawer of my desk. 
Bring that. That will shine.” 

“I passed the tin shop the other day and I noticed 
on the floor a heap of bits of bright new tin glittering 
like silver,” suggested Roger. 

“Why couldn’t we get some and string the bits on a 
fine cord that wouldn’t show and let them dangle?” 

“They wouldn’t look very pretty — just bits of tin 
— unless we partly concealed them,” said Helen 
meditatively. 

“Is the asparagus all gone,” demanded Dorothy 
suddenly. “If it hasn’t been frost nipped we could 
decorate the room with that, it’s so delicate and 
feathery, and let the garlands of shining tin show 
through. Then you’d see just the shine.” 

“ — and not the ignoble material that caused it. A 
good idea, Dorothy,” applauded her aunt. 

Roger departed promptly on an investigating trip 
to the garden accompanied by his orderly, Dicky. 

“Here you are,” he cried, coming back with an 
armful. “Some of it is still pretty green and some 
of it is straw color, but it’s all feathery and delicate 
and as pretty as can be.” 

“Fairieth will like that for their houthe,” pro- 
nounced Dicky with decision. 

“Dicky is our authority on what the invisibles like 
and don’t like,” smiled Dicky’s mother. 

“Mary thayth,” Dicky quoted his authority, “that 


2 6 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


fairieth are tho thmall you can’t thee ’em, tho they 
mutht like little thmall leaveth like thothe that they 
can thee through.” 

“That’s well thought out,” agreed Roger. “Of 
course a fairy couldn’t see his way about if there were 
big leaves in his way any more than we could if all 
our trees had leaves like some of those huge affairs 
on the tropical trees.” 

The girls were placing sprays of the asparagus 
lightly wherever they could attach them, not bank- 
ing them as they had the hemlock in the dining room, 
but trying to give an effect of airiness. The pale 
straw-colored stalks they found lent themselves ad- 
mirably to this effect. 

“It’s perfectly ducky!” announced Ethel Blue. 
“It makes me feel like poetry !” 

When Roger returned from his expedition to the 
tin shop they all sat down to tie the bits of tin with 
which he was laden on to lengths of string. 

“Look out you don’t cut your fingers. The edges 
are sharp,” he cautioned them, his own thumb in his 
mouth to show that he spoke with feeling. 

When the lines were finished there was enough to 
loop generously around the little room and it glis- 
tened through the asparagus shield as brilliantly as 
if it were really silver. 

“That’s the cheapest decoration I ever came 
across,” announced Roger. “The tinman was only 
too delighted to give me all my basket would hold. 
These scraps are of no use to him and he was glad to 
have me clean up his floor.” 

“Mother’s roses are lovely,” and Dorothy stood 


THE WITCHES’ CAVE 


2 7 . 


on tiptoe to tuck one in among the tiny leaflets of a 
bit of green asparagus. Wreaths of roses swung 
from the electrolier to the wall and shone reflected 
in the gleaming musical glasses that tinkled with 
every breath of air. Mrs. Morton allowed Roger to 
take off the colored shades from the electric lights 
and to substitute lily-shaped bells of white crepe 
paper. The furniture was pushed back against the 
wall, and was half concealed by festoons of asparagus 
and by the wings of thin cloth that the girls had used 
in a butterfly dance which they had given earlier in 
the autumn. 

“It is all delicate — the color and the materials” — 
approved Mrs. Smith. 

“And it shines and it tinkles. I believe the fairies 
will like it,” and Ethel Blue gave a skip of satisfac- 
tion. 

“Now, then, let’s do the hall and the living room.” 

“We must be sure to leave plenty of space in the 
center of both rooms for the apple bobbing and the 
stunts that we’ll need to move about in,” Roger re- 
minded them, speaking of the hall as a room because 
it was a large square entrance way, almost as large as 
the living room itself. 

“There’s an old rug in the attic that you can stand 
your tub of water on. Ask Mary to tell you just 
where it is,” directed Mrs. Morton. 

“We ought to have one or two small tables that 
can’t be hurt and that can be moved about easily,” 
said Ethel Brown. 

“I’ve read somewhere that Hallowe’en used to be 
a harvest festival,” said Helen, who always could be 


28 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


depended upon to find out historical connections. 
“Why can’t we do these two rooms with that in 
mind?” 

“Shocks of corn and bundles of oats and sichlike,” 
agreed Roger. “Not bad.” 

“Quite the contrary — very good,” retorted Ethel 
Brown smartly. “And we can work in all the vines 
and bittersweet that Helen and I got yesterday.” 

“Your grandfather brought over the machine this 
morning filled with tall cornstalks and oats, and your 
grandmother sent a dozen ears of red corn,” an- 
nounced Mrs. Morton. 

“Let’s tie a lot of cornstalks to the post at the foot 
of the stairs,” suggested Dorothy. “It will look al- 
most as if it were out in the field.” 

“Here are some beautiful stalks,” announced Ethel 
Brown, looking over the supply that Roger brought in 
from the back porch and spread on the hall floor on a 
dust sheet that Mary gave him for the purpose. 
“We can put them up singly beside the doors and 
windows.” 

“Our yellow grapevine is lovely,” said Helen. 
“It’s long enough to wander up the side of the front 
window and over the top.” 

“Let the bittersweet come from behind the backs 
of the pictures,” urged Ethel Blue.” 

“Here’s a whole armful of brown sedge grass. 
Where, oh, where?” inquired Roger, sorting it out 
from a general pile. 

“In this jar, on the floor, I say, and the cat-tails in 
that other. They look tall and impressive.” 

“And one jack-o’-lantern at the foot of the stairs 


THE WITCHES’ CAVE 


29 

and one in the opposite corner, and two in the living 
room.” 

“One at the turn of the stairs would be effective.” 

“And one smiling a welcome on the front porch.” 

“Your Aunt Louise and I will stay in the library 
out of the turmoil. You can put a jack on guard at 
the door.” 

“Be sure to look over all the articles you will need 
to use,” suggested Mrs. Morton. “You know in the 
theatres they have a man to attend to just that. 
Who’s your property man?” 

“We’ll go through our program and see what we 
want,” answered Helen. “I guess we’ll all have to 
take a hand in gathering the things. Roger will 
have to pull some vegetables from the garden.” 

“And we’ll need saucers and candles.” 

“The nut boats aren’t started yet.” 

“And the nuts aren’t cracked.” 

“The cookies are done, though.” 

“Prompt little Ethel Brown!” 

“And the gingerbread.” 

“Good little Ethel Blue!” 

“I’ve polished the apples so they almost sparkle.” 

“Great old Dorothy.” 

“And the raisins are ready.” 

“Splendid President.” 

“Your grandfather said he was interested in 
your party because you were going to show that you 
were a service club at the same time that you were 
enjoying yourselves. Have you planned how you’re 
going to accomplish that?” asked Mrs. Morton. 

“Yes, Mother, we have, but if you don’t mind we’d 


3 o ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

like to surprise you with that part of the program.” 

“Very well. I know I can depend on you not to 
be silly or unkind.” 

“That’s just being negative — not being unkind,” 
repeated Roger. “We’re going to be positive — 
we’re going to do something kind. But we’d like to 
get all the details worked out before we tell you 
about it, Mother. We can as soon as the Watkinses 
come.” 

“I trust you,” repeated his mother. 

Dicky was wandering from one room to another in 
a state of quiet remarkable for him. 

“I think I hear them coming now,” he said. 

“The Watkinses ? They won’t be here until seven 
o’clock,” answered Roger. 

“No, the fairies and the witches. I’m sure I hear 
them coming. I’m going to stay in the fairy room to 
see them,” and there he planted himself and did not 
stir until luncheon offered its agreeable fragrance to 
charm him from a position that, after all, did not 
seem to be offering much reward. 


CHAPTER III 


Hallowe’en 


** OU’RE as good as gold to come out and help 



X these youngsters enjoy themselves,” was 
Mrs. Morton’s greeting to Edward Watkins when 
he appeared in the evening with Tom and Della. 

“It’s they who are as good as gold to let me come,” 
he returned, smiling pleasantly. He was a hand- 
some young man of about twenty-five, a doctor whose 
profession, as yet, did not make serious inroads on 
his time. “I made the acquaintance of the Club, you 
know, when it went in a body to say ‘Good-bye’ to 
Mademoiselle Millerand,” he went on, referring to 
the departure on a French Line steamer of the French 
teacher at the Rosemont high school who went to 
France to join the Red Cross. 

“And you were good enough to help them out in 
their entertainment. Every one enjoyed your violin, 
and your acting of the ‘Pied Piper,’ ” said Mrs. 
Smith. 

“You’re awfully kind,” replied Dr. Watkins, flush- 
ing. 

“Not to speak of your splendid rendering of that 
classic, ‘Sister Susie’s Sewing Shirts for Soldiers.’ ” 

“It ought to be knitting to be strictly truthful, 
oughtn’t it? Mother and Della are clicking away 
all the time. What are these people going to make 


32 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

us do first,” he wondered as Roger began a distri- 
bution of colored bands. 

“These are to tie your eyes with,” he explained. 
“Yellow, you see; Hallowe’en color. The girls in- 
sist on my explaining all their fine points for fear they 
won’t be appreciated,” he said to the doctor. 

“Quite right. I never should have thought about 
the color.” 

“Mother, this is George Foster,” said Helen, wel- 
coming a tall boy who was not a member of the U. S. 
C. but who had helped at the Club entertainment by 
taking part in the minuet. He shook hands with 
Mrs. Morton and Mrs. Smith and then submitted to 
having his eyes bandaged. He was followed by 
Gregory Patton, another high school lad, and to the 
great joy of everybody, James, after all, came on his 
crutches with Margaret. 

“Now, then, my blindfolded friends,” said Roger, 
“Grandfather tells me that it is the custom in Scot- 
land where fairies and witches are very abundant, 
for the ceremony that we are about to perform to 
open every Hallowe’en party. He has it direct 
from Bobby Burns.” 

“Then it’s right,” came a smothered voice from be- 
neath James’s bandage. 

“James is of Scottish descent and he confirms this 
statement, so we can go ahead and be perfectly sure 
that we’re doing the correct thing. Of course, w T e 
all want to know the future and particularly what- 
ever we can about the person we’re going to marry, 
so that’s what we’re going to try to find out at the 
very start off.” 


HALLOWE’EN 


33 

“Take off my bandage,” cried Dicky. “I know 
the perthon I’m going to marry.” 

A shout of laughter greeted this assertion from the 
six-year-old. 

“Who is it, Dicky?” asked Helen, her arm around 
his shoulders. 

“I’m going to marry Mary,” he asserted stoutly. 

There was a renewed peal at this, and Roger went 
on with his instructions. 

“I’ll lead you two by two to the kitchen door and 
then you’ll go down the flight of steps and straight 
ahead for anywhere from ten to twenty steps. That 
will land you right in the middle of what the frost 
has left of the Morton garden. When you get there 
you’ll ‘pull kale.’ ” 

“Meaning?” inquired George Foster. 

“Meaning that you’ll feel about until you find a 
stalk of cabbage and pull it up.” 

“I don’t like cabbage,” complained Tom Watkins. 

“You’ll like this because it will give you a lot of 
information. If it’s long or short or fat or thin your 
future husband or wife will correspond to it.” 

“That’s the most unromantic thing I ever heard,” 
exclaimed Margaret Hancock. “I certainly hope my 
future husband won’t be as fat as a cabbage!” 

“You can tell how great a fortune he’s going to 
have — or she — by the amount of earth that clings to 
the stem.” 

“Watch me pull mine so g-e-n-t-l-y that not a grain 
of sand slips off,” said Tom. 

“If you’ve got courage enough to bite the stem you 
can find out with perfect accuracy whether your be- 
35 


34 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

loved will have a sweet disposition or the opposite.” 

“In any case he’d have a disposition like a cab- 
bage,” insisted Margaret, who did not like cabbage 
any more than Tom did. 

“Ready?” Roger marshalled his little army. 
“Two by two. Doctor and Ethel Blue, Tom and 
Dorothy, James and Helen, George and Ethel 
Brown, Gregory and Margaret. Come on, Della,” 
and he led the way through the kitchen where Mary 
and the cook were hugely entertained by the proces- 
sion. 

With cries and stumbling they went forth into the 
cabbage patch, where they all possessed themselves 
of stalks which they straightway brought in to the 
light of the jack-o’-lanterns to interpret. 

“My lady love will be tall and slender — not to say 
thin,” began Dr. Watkins. “I see no information 
here as to the color of her hair and eyes. Fate 
cruelly witholds these important facts. I regret to 
say that I wooed her so vigorously that I shook off 
any gold pieces she may have had clinging about her 
so I can only be sure of the golden quality of her 
character which I have just discovered by biting it.” 

Amid general laughter they all began to read their 
fortunes. Tom announced that his beloved was so 
thin that she was really a candidate for the attentions 
of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ani- 
mals, and that he couldn’t find out anything about 
her character because there wasn’t enough of her to 
bite. 

Margaret had pulled a stalk that fulfilled all her 
expectations as to size, for it was so short and fat 


HALLOWE’EN 


35 


that she could see no relation between it and any- 
thing human and threw it out of the window in dis- 
gust. The rest found themselves fitted out with a 
variety of possibilities. 

“There doesn’t seem to be a real tearing beauty 
among them all,” sighed Roger. * “That’s what I’d 
set my heart on.” 

“What do you expect from a cabbage?” demanded 
Margaret scornfully. 

“I want to know whether I’m going to marry a 
bachelor or a widower or not marry at all,” cried 
Helen. “Let’s try the ‘three luggies’ next.” 

“First cabbages, then ‘luggies,’ ” said Della. 
“What are ‘luggies’?” 

“ ‘Luggies’ are saucers,” explained Helen, while 
James brought a small table and Ethel Brown ar- 
ranged three saucers upon it. “In one of them I put 
clear water, in another one, sandy water, and nothing 
at all in the third. Anybody ready to try? Come, 
Della.” 

Della came forward briskly, but hesitated when 
she found that she must be blindfolded. 

“There isn’t any trick about it?” she asked sus- 
piciously. “I shouldn’t like to have anything hap- 
pen to that saucer of sandy water.” 

“It won’t touch anything but your finger tips, and 
perhaps not those,” Helen reassured her. “What 
you are to do is to dip the fingers of your left hand 
into one of these saucers. If it proves to be the one 
with the clear water you’ll marry a bachelor; if it’s 
the sandy one he’ll be a widower, and if it’s the empty 
one you’ll be a spinster to your dying day.” 


36 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“You have three tries,” cried Ethel Blue, “and the 
saucers are changed after each trial, so you have to 
touch the same one twice to be sure you really know 
your fate. Are you ready?” 

“I’m ready,” and Della bravely though cautiously 
dipped the finger tips of her left hand into the bowl 
of sandy water. 

A cheer greeted this result. 

“A widower, a widower,” they all cried. 

Helen changed the position of the saucers and 
Della made another trial. This time the Fates 
booked her as a spinster. 

“That’s the least trouble of anything,” decided 
roly poly Della who took life carelessly. 

A third attempt proved that a widower was to be 
her future helpmate, for her fingers went into the 
sandy saucer for a second time. 

“I only hope he won’t be an oldy old widower,” 
said Della thoughtfully. “I couldn’t bear to think of 
marrying any one as old as Edward.” 

“I’ll thank you to take notice that I haven’t got a 
foot in the grave just yet, young woman,” retorted 
her brother. 

While some of the others tried their fate by the 
saucer method, the rest endeavored to learn their 
future occupations by means of pouring melted lead 
through the handle of a key. Roger brought in a 
tiny kettle of lead from the kitchen where Mary had 
heated it for them and set it down on a small table on 
a tea pot stand, so that the heat should not injure the 
wood. Taking a large key in his left hand he dipped 
a spoon into the lead with his right and poured the 


HALLOWE’EN 


37 


contents slowly through the ring at the end of the 
handle of the key into a bowl of cold water. The 
sudden chill stiffened the lead 
into curious shapes and from 
them those who were clever at 
translating were to discover what 
the future held for them in the 
way of occupation. 

“Mine looks more like a spin- 
ning wheel than anything else,” 
said Roger who had done it first 
so that the rest might see how it 
was accomplished. 

“Perhaps that means that 
you’ll be a manufacturer of 
cloth,” suggested Margaret. 

“Mine looks more like a cabbage 
than anything else. You don’t 
think it can mean that I shall 
have to devote myself to that 
husband I pulled out of the cab- 
bage patch?” 

“It may. Or it might mean 
that you’ll be a gardener. Lots 
of women are going in for gar- 
dening now. By the time you’re 
ready to start that may be a favored occupation for 
girls,” said Dr. Watkins. 

“Here are several things that we can do one at a 
time while the rest of us are doing something else,” 
said Helen. “They have to be done alone or the 
spell won’t work.” 



The rest endeavored 
to learn their fu- 
ture occupations by- 
means of pouring 
melted lead through 
the handle of a 
key.” 


38 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“Let’s hear them,” begged Gregory, while he and 
the others grouped themselves about the open fire in 
the living room and prepared to burn nuts. 

“The first one, according to Burns, is to go alone 
to the kiln and put a clew of yarn in the kiln pot.” 

“What does that mean translated into Rosemont 
language ?” demanded James. 

“James the Scotsman asks for information! 
However, there’s some excuse for him. Translated 
into Rosemont language it means that you go to the 
laundry and put a ball of yarn into the wash boiler.” 

“Easy so far.” 

“Take an end of the ball and begin to wind the 
yarn into a new ball. When you come near the end 
you’ll find that something or some one will be hold- 
ing it—” 

“Roger, I’ll bet!” 

“You demand to know the name of your future 
wife and a hollow voice from out the wash boiler will 
tell you her name.” 

“I shan’t try that one. There’s too good a chance 
for Roger to put in some of his tricks. What’s the 
next?” 

“Take a candle and go to the Witches’ Cave — 
that’s the dining room — and stand in front of the 
looking glass that’s on a little table in the corner, 
and eat an apple. The face of your future wife or 
husband will appear over your shoulder.” 

“I’ll try that. I could stand a face that kept still, 
but to have an unknown creature pulling my yarn and 
bawling my wife’s name would upset my nerves !” 

“Here’s the last one. Go into the garden just as 


HALLOWE’EN 


39 


we did to pull the kale. Over at the right hand side 
there’s a stack of barley. It’s really corn, but we’ve 
re-christened it for to-night. You measure it three 
times round with your arms and at the end of the 
third round your beloved will rush into them.” 

“If he proves to be my cabbage spouse you’ll hear 
loud shrieks from little Margaret!” declared that 
young woman. 

“Here are my nuts to burn,” said Ethel Blue, put- 
ting two chestnuts side by side on the hearth. “One 
is Della and the other is Ethel Blue,” and she tapped 
them in turn as she gave them their names. 

“What’s this for?” asked Della, hearing her name 
used. 

“This is to see if you and I will always be friends. 
That right hand nut is you and the left hand is me — 
no, /.” Conscientious Ethel Blue interrupted herself 
to correct her grammar. “If we burn cosily side by 
side we’ll stay friends a long time, but if one of us 
jumps or burns up before the other, she’ll be the one 
to break the friendship.” 

“I hope I shan’t be the one,” and both girls sat 
down on the rug to watch their namesakes closely. 

“Here are Margaret and her cabbage man,” 
laughed Tom. “This delicate, slender chestnut is 
Margaret and this big round one is Mr. Stalk of the 
Cabbage Patch. Now we’ll see how that match is 
going to turn out.” 

Margaret laughed good naturedly with the rest 
and they watched this pair as well as the others. 

“Roger and I had a squabble yesterday,” admitted 
Ethel Brown. “Here is Roger and here is Ethel 


4 o ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

Brown. Let’s see how we are going to get on in the 
future.” 

“Where is Roger really?” some one asked, but at 
that instant Ethel Blue’s nut and Della’s caught fire 
and burned steadily side by side without any demon- 
strations, and every one looking on was so absorbed 
in translating the meaning of the blaze that no one 
pursued the question. 

That is, not until a shriek from the Witches’ Cave 
rang through the house and sent them all flying to see 
who was in trouble. Dorothy was found coming out 
of the dining room, mirror in hand, and a strange 
tale on her lips. 

“If there’s any truth in this Hallowe’en prophecy,” 
she said with trembling voice, “my future husband 
will be worse than Margaret’s cabbage man. The 
face that looked over my shoulder was exactly like a 
jack-o’-lantern’s.” 

“It was? Where’s Roger?” Dr. Watkins de- 
manded instantly, while James hobbled to the front 
door and announced that the jack had disappeared 
from the front porch. 

“Did any one ask for Roger?” demanded a cool 
voice, and Roger was seen coming down stairs. 

“Yes, sir, numerous people asked for Roger. 
How did you do it?” 

“Do what? Has anything happened in my ab- 
sence?” 

“Not a thing has happened in your absence . Just 
tell us how you managed it.” 

“I know,” guessed Helen. “He went outside and 
took the jack from the porch and carried it through 


HALLOWE’EN 


4i 


the kitchen into the dining room where it smiled over 
Dorothy’s shoulder, and then he went into the kitchen 
again and up the back stairs. Wasn’t that it, 
Roger?” 

“Young woman, you are wiser than your years,” 
was all that Roger would say. 

While they were teasing him a shouting in the 
garden sent them all to the back windows and doors. 
In the dim light of the young moon two figures were 
seen wrestling. It was evidently a good natured 
struggle, for peals of laughter fell on the ears of the 
listeners. When one of them dragged the other to- 
ward the house the figures proved to be Tom Wat- 
kins and George Foster. 

“I was measuring the barley stack,” explained 
Tom breathlessly, “and just as I made the third 
round and was eagerly expecting my future bride to 
rush into my arms, something did rush into my arms, 
but I’ll leave it to the opinion of the meeting whether 
this can be my future bride!” and he held at arm’s 
length by the coat collar the laughing, squirming fig- 
ure of George Foster. 

It was unanimously agreed that George did not 
have the appearance of a bride, and then they went 
back to the hall to bob for apples. Roger spread a 
rubber blanket on the floor and drew the tub from its 
hiding place in the corner where it had been waiting 
its turn in the games. 

While the boys were making these arrangements 
Dorothy and Helen were busily trying to dispose of 
the two ends of the same string which stretched from 
one mouth to the other with a tempting raisin tied in 


42 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


the middle to encourage them to effort It was for- 
bidden to use the hands and tongues proved not al- 
ways reliable. Now Dorothy seemed ahead, now 
Helen. Finally the victory seemed about to be 
Helen’s, when she laughed and lost several inches of 
string and Dorothy triumphantly devoured the prize. 

When the girls turned to see what the boys were 
doing, Gregory and James were already bobbing for 
apples. One knelt at one side of the tub and the 
other at the other, and each had his eye, when it was 
not full of water, fixed on one of the apples that were 
bouncing busily about on the waves caused by their 
own motions. 

“I speak for the red one,” gasped Gregory. 

“All right; I’ll go for the greening,” agreed 
James, and they puffed and sputtered, and were quite 
unable to fix their teeth in the sides of the slippery 
fruit until James drove his head right down to the 
bottom of the tub where he fastened upon the apple 
and came up dripping, but triumphant. 

Stimulated by the applause that greeted James, 
Tom and Roger tossed in two apples and began a 
new contest. 

“This isn’t a girls’ game, is it?” murmured Helen 
as Tom won his apple by the same means that James 
had used. 

“Not unless you’re willing to forget your hair,” re- 
plied Dr. Watkins. 

“You can’t forget it when it takes so long to dry 
it,” Helen answered. “I’m content to let the boys 
have this entirely to themselves.” 


HALLOWE’EN 


43 


While the half drowned boys went up to Roger’s 
room to dry their faces the girls prepared nut boats 
to set sail upon the same ocean that had floated the 
apples. They had cracked English walnuts carefully 
so that the two halves fell apart neatly, and in place 
of the meats they had packed a candle end tightly 
into each. 

“We have the comfort of the apple even when 
we’re defeated,” said Gregory, coming down stairs, 
eating the fruit that he had not been able to capture 
without the use of his hands. “What have you got 
there ?” 

“Here’s a boat apiece,” explained Helen. “We 
must each put a tiny flag of some sort on it so that we 
can tell which is which.” 

“This way?” George asked. “I’ve put a pin 
through a scrap of corn husk and stuck it on to the 
end of this craft.” 

“That’s right. We must find something different 
for each one. Mine is a black-alder berry. See 
how red and bright it is?” 

It was not hard for each to find an emblem. 

“Watch me hoist the admiral’s flag at the main- 
mast,” said Roger, but the match that he set up for a 
mast caught fire almost as soon as the candles were 
lighted in the miniature fleet. His flag fell over- 
board, however, and was not injured. 

“See that?” he commented. “That just proves 
that the flag of the U. S. A. can never perish,” and 
the others greeted his words with cheers. 

It was a pretty sight — the whole fleet afloat, each 


44 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

bit of candle burning clearly and each little craft 
tossing on the waves that Dr. Watkins produced by 
gently tipping the tub. 

“This is also an attempt to gain some knowledge 
of the future,” said Helen. “We must watch these 
boats and see which ones stay close together and 
which go far apart, and whether any of them are 
shipwrecked, and which ones seem to have the 
smoothest voyage.” 

“Della’s and mine are sticking together just the 
way our nuts did,” cried Ethel Blue, and she slipped 
her hand into Della’s and gave it a little squeeze. 

After the loss of its mainmast at the very begin- 
ning Roger’s craft had no more mishaps. It slid 
alongside of James’s and together they bobbed gently 
across life’s stormy seas. 

“It looks as if you and I were going into partner- 
ship, old man,” James interpreted their behavior. 

The other boats seemed to need no especial com- 
panionship but floated on independently, only Greg- 
ory’s coming to an untimely end from a heavy wave 
that washed over it and capsized it. 

“I seem to hear a summons from the Witches’ 
Cave,” murmured Helen in an awed whisper as a 
sound like the wind whistling through pine trees fell 
on their ears, resolving itself as they listened into 
the words, “Come ! Come! Come!” 

Quietly they rose and tiptoed their way toward 
the dining room. They could only enter it by pene- 
trating the thicket of boughs that barred the door. 
As they came nearer the voice retreated — “Almost 
as if it were going into the kitchen,” whispered Mar- 


HALLOWE’EN 


45 , 


garet to Tom who happened to be next to her. The 
only light in the room came from a pan of alcohol 
and salt burning greenly in a corner and casting an 
unnatural hue over their faces. The black cats, their 
eyes touched with phosphorus, glared down from the 
plate rail. 

Again the voice was heard: — “Gather, gather 
about the festal board.” 

“We must obey the witches,” urged Helen, and 
they sat down in the chairs which they found placed 
at the table in just the right number. Into the dim 
room from the kitchen came two figures dressed in 
long black capes and pointed red hats and bearing 
each a dish heaped high with cakes of some sort. 

“I just have to tell you what these are,” said Ethel 
Brown in her natural voice as she and Ethel Blue 
marched around the table and placed one dish before 
Roger at one end and another before Helen at the 
other. “It’s sowens.” 

“Sowens? What in the world are sowens?” 
everybody questioned. 

“Grandfather told us that Burns says that sowens 
eaten with butter always make the Hallowe’en sup- 
per, so we looked up in the Century Dictionary how 
to make them and this is the result.” 

“Do you think they’re safe?” inquired Della. 

“There’s a doctor here to take care of us if any- 
thing happens,” laughed James. “I’m game. Give 
me a chance at them.” 

Roger and Helen began a distribution of the cakes. 

“Would you rather know now how they’re made 
or later?” asked Ethel Blue. 


4 6 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“Now,” said Dr. Watkins prudently. “I can be 
thinking up an antidote.” 

“Well, it seems that after the oatmeal has been 
sifted out from the oats there is always some of the 
good stuff left in the husks. James’s economical an- 
cestors used to steep the husks in water until this 
farina was all dissolved and then they let it stand un- 
til it was sour. Then they strained it through a 
sieve and let the starchy substance settle. When it 
had settled they poured off the sour water and mixed 
up the mess again with fresh water, and boiled it — 
and that’s sowens.” 

“Sowens is — or are — good,” decided Dr. Wat- 
kins, tasting his cake slowly, and pronouncing judg- 
ment on it after due deliberation. 

“We tried them yesterday to make sure they were 
eatable by Americans, and we thought they were 
pretty good, smoking hot, with butter on them, just 
as Burns directed.” 

“Right. They are,” agreed all the boys promptly, 
and the girls agreed with them, though they were not 
quite so enthusiastic in their expression of apprecia- 
tion as the boys. 

Baked apples, nuts and raisins, countless cookies 
of various kinds and hot gingerbread made an appe- 
tizing meal. As it was coming to an end Helen 
rapped on the table. 

“Please let me pretend this is a club meeting for a 
minute or two instead of a party. I want to tell the 
people here who aren’t members of the U. S. C. 
what it is we are trying to do.” 

“We know,” responded George. “You’re work- 


HALLOWE’EN 


47 

ing for the Christmas Ship. Didn’t I dance in your 
minuet?” 

“We are working for the Christmas Ship, but that 
is only one thing that the Club does.” 

“What do the initials mean?” asked Gregory. 

“United Service Club. You see Father is in the 
Navy and Uncle Richard is in the Army so we have 
the United Service in the family. But that is just a 
family pun. The real purpose of the Club is to do 
some service for somebody whenever we can.” 

“Something on the Boy Scout idea of doing a 
kindness every day,” nodded Dr. Watkins. 

“Just now it’s the Christmas Ship and after that 
sails we’ll hunt up something else. Why I told you 
about it now is because we planned to go out in a few 
minutes and go up and down some of the streets, 
and—” 

“Lift gates?” asked Gregory. 

“No, not lift gates. That’s the point. We 
couldn’t very well be a service club and do mean 
things to people just for the fun of it.” 

“Oh, lifting gates isn’t mean.” 

“Isn’t it ! I don’t believe you’d find it enormously 
entertaining to hunt up your gate the next day and 
re-hang it, would you?” 

Gregory admitted that perhaps it would not. 

“So we’re going out to play good fairies instead of 
bad ones, and if any of you knows anybody we can do 
a good turn to, please speak up.” 

“That’s the best scheme I’ve heard in some time,” 
said Edward Watkins admiringly. “Let’s start. 
I’m all impatience to be a good fairy.” 


48 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

So they said “good-night” to Dicky, bundled into 
their coats and each one of the boys took a jack-o’- 
lantern to light the way. Roger also carried a kit 
that bulged with queer shapes, and the girls each had 
a parcel whose contents was not explained by the 
president. 

“Lead the way, Roger,” she commanded as they 
left the house. 

“Church Street first,” he answered. 

“Church Street? I wonder if he’s going to do 
Mother and me a good turn,” giggled Dorothy. 

It proved that he was not, for he passed the Smith 
cottage and went on until he came to the house in 
which lived the Misses Clark. Roger was taking care 
of their furnace, together with his mother’s and his 
Aunt Louise’s, in order to earn money for the ex- 
penses of the Club, and he had discovered that these 
old ladies were not very happy in spite of living in a 
comfortable house and apparently having everything 
they needed. 

“These Misses Clark are lonely,” he whispered as 
they gathered before the door. “They think no- 
body cares for them — and nobody does much, to tell 
the honest truth. So here’s where we sing two songs 
for them,” and without waiting for any possible ob- 
jections he broke into “The Christmas Ship” which 
they all knew, and followed it with “Sister Susie’s 
Sewing Shirts for Soldiers.” 

“Not very appropriate, but they’ll do,” whispered 
Roger to Dr. Watkins, whose clear tenor supported 
him. Dorothy’s sweet voice soared high, Tom’s 
croak made a heavy background, and the more or less 


HALLOWE’EN 


49 

tuneful voices of the others added a hearty body of 
sound. There was no response from the house ex- 
cept that a corner of an upstairs curtain was drawn 
aside for an instant. 

“They probably think they won’t find anything left 
on their front porch when they come down in the 
morning. They’ve had Hallowe’en visits before, 
poor ladies,” said Gregory as they tramped away. 

The next visit was to a different part of the town. 
Here the girls left two of their bundles which proved 
to contain apples and cookies. 

“I don’t believe these people ever have a cent they 
can afford to spend on foolishnesses like this,” Helen 
explained to Dr. Watkins, “but they aren’t the sort 
of people you can give things to openly, so we 
thought we’d take this opportunity,” and she smiled 
happily and went on behind Roger’s leadership. 

This time the visit was to the Atwoods, the old 
couple down by the bridge. Roger had been inter- 
ested in them for a long time. They were not suffer- 
ing, for a son supported them, but both were almost 
crippled with rheumatism and sometimes the old man 
found the little daily chores about the house hard to 
do, and often the old woman longed for a little 
amusement of which she was deprived because she 
could not go to visit her friends. It was here that 
Roger’s kit came into play. He took from it several 
hatchets and distributed them to the boys. 

“We’re going to chop the gentleman’s kindling and 
stack up the wood that’s lying round here while the 
girls sing to the old people,” he announced. 

So the plan was carried out. The girls gathered 
36 


ISO ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

about the doorstep, and, led by Dorothy, sang cradle 
songs and folk songs and a hymn or two, while the 
boys toiled away behind the house. Again there was 
no response. 

“Probably they’ve gone to bed,” guessed Ethel 
Brown. 

“I imagine they’re lying awake, though,” said 
Ethel Blue softly. 

It is an old adage that “many hands make light 
work,” and it is equally true that they turn off a lot 
of it, so at the end of half an hour the old peoples’ 
wood pile was in apple pie order and the yard was in 
a spick and span condition. 

There were two more calls before the procession 
turned home and at both houses bundles of goodies 
were left for children who would not be apt to have 
them. On the way back to the house the U. S. C.’s 
came across the trail of a Hallowe’en party of the 
usual kind, and they pleased themselves mightily by 
hanging two gates which they found unhung, and by 
restoring to their proper places several signs which 
some village wit — “or witling,” suggested Dr. Wat- 
kins — had misplaced. 

The evening ended with the cutting of a cake in 
which was baked a ring. 

“The one who gets the ring in his slice will be 
married first,” announced Mrs. Morton, who had 
prepared the cake as a surprise for those who had 
been surprising others. 

They cut it with the greatest care and slowly, one 
after the other. To the delight of all Dr. Watkins’s 
slice proved to contain the ring. 


HALLOWE’EN 


5i 

“I rather imagine that’s the most suitable arrange- 
ment the ring could have made,” laughed Mrs. Smith. 

“If one of these youngsters had found it, it would 
have meant that I’d have to wait a long time for my 
turn,” he laughed back. “Wish me luck.” 


CHAPTER IV 


MISS MERRIAM 

T HE first fortnight of November rushed by with 
the final preparations for the sailing of the 
Christmas Ship filling every moment of the time of 
the members of the United Service Club. When at 
last their three packing cases of gifts were expressed 
to Brooklyn, they drew a sigh of relief, but when the 
Jason actually left the pier they felt as if all purpose 
had been taken out of their lives. 

This feeling did not linger with them long, how- 
ever, for it was not many days later that there ap- 
peared at the Mortons’ a Red Cross nurse, invalided 
home from Belgium, bringing with her the Belgian 
baby which they had begged their teacher, Made- 
moiselle Millerand, who had joined the French Red 
Cross, to send them. 

Truth to tell, the arrival of the baby was entirely 
unexpected. It had come about in this way. When 
the club went to bid farewell to Mademoiselle Miller- 
and on the steamer they learned that she hoped to be 
sent to some hospital in Belgium. Ethel Blue, who 
had been reading a great deal about the suffering of 
the women and children in Belgium, cried, “Belgium ! 
Oh, do send us a Belgian baby !” The rest had taken 
up the cry and James had had the discomfiture of be- 
52 


MISS MERRIAM 


53 


mg kissed by an enthusiastic Frenchwoman on the 
pier who was delighted with their warmheartedness. 

At intervals they mentioned the Belgian baby, but 
quite as a joke and not at all as a possibility. So 
when the Red Cross nurse came with her tiny charge 
and told them how Mademoiselle Millerand had not 
been able to resist taking their offer seriously since 
it meant help and perhaps life itself for this little war- 
worn child, they w r ere thoroughly surprised. 

Their surprise, however, did not prevent them 
from rising to meet the situation. Indeed, it would 
have been hard for any one to resist the appeal made 
by the pale little creature whose hands were too weak 
to do more than clutch faintly at a finger and whose 
eyes were too weary to smile. 

Mrs. Morton took her to her arms and heart at 
once. So did all the members of the Club and it was 
when they gave a cheer for “Elisabeth of Belgium,’’ 
that she made her first attempt at laughter. Made- 
moiselle had written that her name was Elisabeth and 
the nurse said that she called herself that, but, so far 
as her new friends could find out, that was the extent 
of her vocabulary. “Ayleesabet,” she certainly was, 
but the remainder of her remarks were not only few 
but so uncertain that they could not tell whether she 
was trying to speak Flemish or French or a lan- 
guage of her own. 

The nurse was obliged to return at once to New 
York, and the Mortons found themselves at nightfall 
in the position of having an unexpected guest for 
whom there was no provision. Even the wardrobe 
of the new member of the family was almost nothing, 


54 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

consisting of the garments she was wearing and an 
extra gingham dress which a woman in the steerage of 
the ship had taken from her own much larger child to 
give to the waif. 

“Alyeesabet” ate her supper daintily, like one who 
has been so near the borderland of starvation that he 
cannot understand the uses of plenty, and then she 
went heavily to sleep in Ethel Blue’s lap before the 
fire in the living room. 

Aunt Louise and Dorothy came over from their 
cottage to join the conference. 

“It is really a considerable problem,” said Mrs. 
Morton thoughtfully. “These children here say 
they are going to attend to her clothing, and it’s 
right they should, for she is the Club baby; but there 
are other questions that are serious. Where, for 
instance, is she going to sleep?” 

A laugh rippled over the room as she asked the 
question, for the sleeping accommodations of the 
Morton house were regarded as a joke since the 
family was so large and the house was so small that 
a guest always meant a considerable process of re- 
arrangement. 

“It isn’t any laughing matter, girls. She can have 
Dicky’s old crib, of course, but where shall we put 
it?” 

“It’s perfectly clear to me,” said Mrs. Smith, re- 
sponding to an appealing glance from Dorothy, “that 
the baby must come to us. Dorothy and I have 
plenty of room in the cottage, and it would be a 
very great happiness to both of us — the greatest 
happiness that has come to me since — since — ” 


MISS MERRIAM 


Si 


She hesitated and Dorothy knew that she was 
thinking about the baby brother who had died years 
ago. 

“It does seem the best way,” replied Mrs. Mor- 
ton, “but — ” 

“ ‘But me no huts,’ ” quoted Mrs. Smith, smiling. 
“The baby’s coming is equally sudden to all of us, 
only I happen to be a bit better prepared for an un- 
expected guest, because I have more space. Then 
Dorothy has been just as crazy as the other girls to 
have a ‘Belgian baby,’ and she shouted just as loudly 
as anybody at the pier — I heard her.” 

“Always excepting James,” Ethel Brown reminded 
them and they all laughed, remembering James and 
his Gallic salute. 

“Don’t take her to-night, Aunt Louise,” begged 
Ethel Blue. “Let us have her just one night. We 
can put Dicky’s crib into our room between Ethel 
Brown’s bed and mine.” 

It was finally decided that Elisabeth should not 
be taken to Dorothy’s until the next day, but Mrs. 
Morton insisted on keeping her in her own room 
for the night. 

“She has such a slight hold on life that she ought 
to have an experienced eye watching her for some 
time to come,” she said. 

All the girls assisted at the baby’s going to bed 
ceremonies, and tall Helen felt a catch in her throat 
no less than Ethel Blue at sight of the wasted legs 
and arms and hollow chest. 

“I wonder, now,” said Aunt Louise when they 
had gone down stairs again, leaving Ethel Blue and 


56 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

Ethel Brown to sit in the next room until their own 
bedtime, so that the faintest whimper might not go 
unheard. “I wonder where we are going to find 
some one competent to take care of this baby. A 
child in such a condition needs more than ordinary 
care; she needs skilled care.” 

“Mary might have some relatives,” Dorothy be- 
gan, when Helen made a rushing suggestion. 

“Why not go to the School of Mothercraft? 
You remember, it was at Chautauqua for the sum- 
mer? And it’s back in New York now. I’ve been 
meaning to ask you or Grandmother or Aunt Louise 
to take me there some Saturday, only we’ve been 
so busy with the Ship we didn’t have time for any- 
thing else. You remember it?” she asked anxiously, 
for she had especial reasons for wanting her mother 
to remember the School of Mothercraft. 

“Certainly I remember it, and I believe it will 
give us just what we want now. It’s a new sort 
of school,” she explained to Mrs. Smith. “The stu- 
dents are young women who are studying the science 
and art of home-making. They are working out 
home problems in a real home in which there are 
real children.” 

“Babies and all?” 

“Babies and children of other sizes. I’m going 
to study there when I leave college. Mother says 
I may,” cried Helen, delighted that her favorite 
school was on the point of proving its usefulness in 
her own family. 

“Can you get mother’ helpers from there?” 

“You can, and they’re scientifically trained young 


MISS MERRIAM 


57 , 

women. Many of them are college graduates who 
are taking this as graduate work.” 

“Then I should say that the thing for us to do,” 
said Mrs. Smith, “was to leave the baby in Mary’s 
care .to-morrow and go in to New York and see 
what we can find at the School of Mothercraft. 
Will the students be willing to break in on their 
course?” 

“Perhaps not, but the Director of the school is 
sure to know of some of her former pupils who will 
be available. That was a brilliant idea of yours, 
Helen,” and Helen sank back into her chair pleased 
at the gentle stroke of approval that went from her 
mother’s hand to hers. 

Dorothy and Mrs. Smith were just preparing to 
go home when the bell rang and Dr. Hancock was 
announced. 

“James and Margaret came home with a won- 
derful tale of a foundling with big eyes,” he said 
when he had greeted everybody, “and I thought I’d 
better come over and have a look at her. I should 
judge she’d need pretty close watching for a long 
time.” 

“She will,” assented Mrs. Morton, and told him 
of their plan to secure a helper from the School of 
Mothercraft. 

“The very best thing you can do,” the doctor 
agreed heartily. “I’m on the Advisory Board of 
the School with several other physicians and I 
don’t know any institution I approve of more heart- 

n y .” 

“Ayleesabet” was found to be sleeping deeply, 


58 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

but her breathing was even and her skin properly 
moist and the physician was satisfied. 

“I’ll run over every day for a week or two,” he 
promised. “We must make the little creature be- 
lieve that American air is the best tonic in the 
world.” 

If the U. S. C. had had its way every member 
would have gone with Mrs. Morton and Mrs. 
Smith when they made their trip of inquiry on the 
next day. As it was, they decided that it was of 
some importance that Helen should go with them, 
and so they went at a later hour than they had at 
first intended, so that she might join them. 

“There’s no recitation at the last period,” she ex- 
plained, “and I can make up the study hour in the 
evening.” 

When the news of the baby’s arrival was tele- 
phoned to Mrs. Emerson she suggested a farther 
change of plan. 

“Let me go, too,” she said; “I’ll call in the car 
for you and Louise and we’ll pick up Helen at the 
schoolhouse and we shall travel so fast that it will 
make up for the later start.” 

Everybody thought that a capital suggestion, and 
Mrs. Emerson arrived half an hour early so that 
she might make the acquaintance of Elisabeth. The 
waif was not demonstrative but she was entirely 
friendly. 

“She seems to have forgotten how to play, if she 
ever knew,” said Mrs. Morton, “but we hope she’ll 
learn soon.” 

“She sees so many new faces it’s a wonder she 


MISS MERRIAM 


59 


doesn’t howl continually,” said Mary to whose kindly 
finger Elisabeth was clinging steadfastly as she gazed 
seriously into Mrs. Emerson’s smiling face. Then 
for the second time since her arrival she smiled. 
It was a smile that brought tears to their eyes, so 
faint and sad was it, but it was a smile after all, 
and they all stood about, happy in her approval. 

“You two have your own children and Father and 
I are all alone now,” said Grandmother, wiping her 
eyes. “Let us have Elisabeth. We need her — and 
we should love her so.” 

“Oh!” cried both of the younger women in tones 
of such disappointment that Mrs. Emerson saw at 
once that if she wanted a nursling she must look for 
another, not Elisabeth of Belgium. 

“After all, perhaps it is better for her,” she ad- 
mitted. “Here she will have the children and will 
grow up among young people. Are you ready?” 

When they picked up Helen she had a request to 
make of her grandmother. 

“I telephoned about the baby to Margaret at re- 
cess, just to tell her Elisabeth was well this morn- 
ing, and she was awfully interested in the idea of the 
helper from the School of Mothercraft. She gets 
out of school earlier than we do — she’d be just home. 
I’m sure she wouldn’t keep you waiting. And the 
house is only a step from the main street — can’t we 
take her?” 

So Margaret was added to the party that sped on 
to the ferry. To everybody’s surprise, when they 
reached the New York end of the ferry Edward 
Watkins signalled the chauffeur to stop. 


6o ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“Roger telephoned Tom and Della about the 
baby,” he explained, “and about your coming in to- 
-day and I thought perhaps I might do something to 
help. I don’t want to intrude — ” 

“We’re going to the School of Mothercraft,” said 
Mrs. Morton, “and we’d be glad to have you go with 
us. I don’t know that we shall need to call on your 
professional advice but if you can spare the time 
we’d like to have you.” 

“Unfortunately, time is the commodity I’m richest 
in,” smiled the young doctor, taking the seat beside 
the chauffeur. 

The ride up town was a pleasure to the girls who 
did not often come to the city, and then seldom had 
an opportunity to ride in any automobile but a taxi- 
cab. As soon as possible they swung in to Fifth 
Avenue, whose brilliant shop windows and swiftly 
moving traffic excited them. They were quite 
thrilled when they drew up before a pretty house, no 
different in appearance from any of its neighbors, 
except that an unobtrusive sign notified seekers that 
they had found the right place. 

“It’s a school to learn home-making in,” Helen 
explained to Margaret in a low tone as they fol- 
lowed the elders up the steps, “so it ought to be in a 
real house and not a schoolhouse-y place.” 

Margaret nodded, for they were being ushered 
into a cheerful reception room, simply but attrac- 
tively furnished. In a minute they were being 
greeted by the Director who remembered meeting at 
Chautauqua all of them except Edward, and she re- 
called other members of his family and especially the 


MISS MERRIAM 6 1 

Watkins bull-dog, Cupid, who was a prominent fig- 
ure in Chautauqua life. 

Mrs. Morton explained their errand, and also the 
reasons that had brought so large a number of them 
to the School. 

“We’re a deputation representing several families 
and a club, all of which are interested in the baby, 
but I should like to have the young woman you select 
for us understand that we are going to rely on her 
knowledge and skill, and that she won’t be called to 
account by a council of war every time she washes 
the baby’s face.” 

The Director smiled. 

“I quite understand,” she said. “I think I know 
just the young woman you want. She finished her 
course here last May, and then she went with me to 
Chautauqua for the summer and helped me there 
with the work we did in measurements and in mak- 
ing out food schedules and so on for children whose 
mothers brought them to us for our advice. Miss 
Merriam — Gertrude Merriam is her name — is tak- 
ing just one course here now, and I think she’ll be 
willing to give it up and glad to undertake the care 
of a baby that needs such special attention as your 
little waif.” 

The whole party followed the Director upstairs 
and looked over with interest the scientifically ap- 
pointed rooms. There was a kindergarten where 
those of the children in the house who were old 
enough, together with a few from outside, were 
taught in the morning hours. The nursery with its 
spotless white beds and furniture and its simple and 


62 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


appropriate pictures was as good to look at as a 
hospital ward, “and a lot pleasanter,” said Dr. Wat- 
kins. Out of it opened a wee roof garden and 
there a few of the children dressed in thick coats and 
warm hoods were playing, while a sweet-faced young 
woman sitting on the floor, seemed quite at home 
with them. She tried to rise as the Director’s party 
came out unexpectedly on her. Her foot caught in 
her skirt and Dr. Watkins sprang forward to give 
her a helping hand. 

“This is Miss Merriam of whom I was speaking,” 
said the Director, introducing her. “Will you ask 
Miss Morgan to come out here with the children and 
will you join us in the study?” she asked. 

Miss Merriam assented and when her successor 
arrived the flock went in again to see the children’s 
dining-room and the arrangements made for doing 
special cooking for such of them as needed it. 

“We try not to have elaborate equipment,” ex- 
plained the Director. “I want my young women to 
be able to work with what any mother provides for 
her home and not to be dependent on machines and 
utensils that are seldom found outside of hospitals. 
They are learning thoroughly the scientific side'. 
Miss Merriam, who, I hope, will go to you, is a col- 
lege graduate, and in college she studied biology 
and food values and ventilation and sanitation and 
such matters. Since she has been here she has re- 
viewed all that work under the physicians who lec- 
ture here, and she has practised first aid and made 
a special study of infant requirements. You couldn’t 
have any one better trained for what you need.” 


MISS MERRIAM 


63 

Dr. Watkins gave his chair to Miss Merriam 
' when she came to join the conference, and asked Mrs. 
Morton by a motion of the eyebrows if he should 
withdraw. When her reply was negative he sat 
down again. Miss Merriam blushed as she faced 
the group but she was entirely at her ease. Mrs. 
Morton explained their need. 

“A Belgian baby!” she cried. “And you want 
me to take care of her ! Why, Mrs. Morton, there’s 
nothing in the world I should like better. The poor 
little dud! When shall I go to you?” 

“Just as soon as you can,” replied Mrs. Morton. 
“We’ve left her to-day in charge of my little boy’s 
old nurse, but as soon as you come we shall move her 
to my sister-in-law’s.” 

Miss Merriam turned inquiringly to Mrs. Smith, 
who smiled in return. 

“Mrs. Smith has only her daughter and herself 
in her family so she has more space in her house 
than I have.” 

“But it’s just round the corner from us so we can 
see the baby every day,” cried Helen. 

“I can go to Rosemont early to-morrow morn- 
ing,” said Miss Merriam. “Tell me, please, how to 
reach there.” 

She glanced at Mrs. Morton, but Dr. Watkins an- 
swered her. 

“If you’ll allow me,” he said; “I have an errand 
in Rosemont to-morrow and I’d be very glad to show 
you the way.” 

Miss Merriam’s blue eyes rested on him question- 
ingly. 


64 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“I’m an ‘in-law’ of the Club,” he explained. 
“My brother and sister, Tom and Della, are devoted 
members of the U. S. C. and sometimes they let me 
join therm” 

“The doctor’s bull-dog is an ‘in-law,’ too,” laughed 
Mrs. Smith. “Don’t you remember him at Chau- 
tauqua ?” 

“The dog with the perfectly extraordinary face? 
I do indeed remember him,” and the inquiring blue 
eyes twinkled. 

“He appeared in an entertainment that the Club 
gave a few weeks ago for the Christmas Ship and I 
think he received more applause than any other per- 
former.” 

“I’m not surprised,” exclaimed Miss Merriam. 
“Thank you, Dr. Watkins, I shall be glad of your 
help,” and Edward had a comfortable feeling that 
he was accepted as a friend, though he was not quite 
sure whether it was on his own merits or because he 
had a share in the ownership of a dog with an 
extraordinary face. 

He did not care which it was, however, when he 
called the next morning and found Miss Merriam 
waiting for him. She was well tailored and her 
handbag was all that it should be. 

“I hate messy girls with messy handbags,” he 
thought to himself after a sweeping glance had as- 
sured him that there was nothing “messy” about this 
Mothercraft girl. The blue eyes were serious this 
morning, but they had a laugh in them, too, when he 
told her of the way the Belgian baby was first called 
for, upon a young girl’s impulse, and the reward 


MISS MERRIAM 65 

James Hancock had received for his cordial joining 
in the cry. 

“I’m going to like them all, every one of them,” 
Miss Merriam said in the soft voice that was at the 
same time clear and firm. 

“I’m sure they’ll like you,” responded Edward. 

“I hope they wilL I shall try to make them. But 
the baby will be a delight, any way.” 

At Rosemont, to Dr. Watkins’s disappointment, 
they found Grandmother Emerson and the automo- 
bile waiting at the station. Edward bowed his fare- 
well and went off upon his errand, and Mrs. Emer- 
son and Miss Merriam drove to Mrs. Smith’s where 
they found Elisabeth already installed in a sunny 
room out of which opened another for Miss Mer- 
riam. The arrangement had been made by Dor- 
othy’s moving into a smaller chamber over the front 
door. 

“I don’t mind it a bit,” she declared to her mother, 
“and please don’t say a word about it to Miss Mer- 
riam — she might feel badly.” 

So Gertrude Merriam accepted her room all un- 
consciously, and rejoiced in its brightness. The 
baby was lying before the window of her own room 
when Gertrude entered. It moved a listless hand as 
she knelt beside it. 

“You little darling creature!” she exclaimed and 
Elisabeth gave her infrequent smile as if she knew 
that woman’s love and science were going to work to- 
gether for her. 


37 


CHAPTER V 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 

I T was on the afternoon before Thanksgiving Day 
that Mrs. Schuler called on Mrs. Morton. Mrs. 
Schuler was the German teacher in the high school. 
She had been married only a few days before to the 
former teacher of singing in the high school who had 
fought with the German army and who had been al- 
lowed to return to America because he had lost a 
leg on one of the hard fought fields of Belgium. 
Fraulein Hindenburg, his betrothed, had insisted on 
marrying him as soon as he arrived, so that she and 
her mother might take care of him and nurse him 
back to robust health. His position in the school 
had been filled but Mrs. Schuler was continuing her 
teaching and she found herself a greater favorite 
than ever with the boys and girls who had sympa- 
thized with her anxiety over her betrothed, and who 
rejoiced in the beaming face of the bride. 

Mrs. Morton greeted her with pleasure, and Helen 
kissed her affectionately. 

“You may think my request very strange,” she be- 
gan promptly. 

Mrs. Morton murmured something to the effect 
that nothing she did would be strange. 

“I have but just heard this minute of the little 
66 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 67 

Belgian baby that has come to you; that our dear 
Mademoiselle sent to the Service Club.” 

“It’s the dearest thing,” cried Helen. 

“I know it. Every baby is the dearest thing. 
But this one — you have not had it long enough to 
love it yet; it will not hurt you to part with it. My 
husband said at once — ‘Go, my dear, go ask the 
good Frau Morton if she will not let us have the 
baby.’ ” 

“Let you have our baby!” cried Helen indig- 
nantly. 

“Ah! you do love it already! I feared so, they 
are so love-worthy, the babies. But my husband, he 
said that he was in some battles, and though he did 
not see the enemy except a long, long way distant, 
yet he shot his gun many times, and he fears he may 
have killed men, even without knowing it. So it was 
his thought that if we could have the Belgian baby 
and care for it it would make amends in part for the 
harm he had done, perhaps to this very baby — per- 
haps to other children.” 

The kind-hearted German girl was sobbing as she 
talked, Mrs. Morton wiped her eyes and Helen ran 
out of the room to get her handkerchief from the 
pocket of her jacket. 

“I quite see how he would feel that way,” said 
Mrs. Morton at length. “But you won’t think me 
unkind if I say that we couldn’t consider it? You 
see, Elisabeth is the Club baby, and we feel that she 
ought to be in the care of some one of the families 
closely connected with the Club. We have a young 
woman who is skilled in the care of delicate babies to 


68 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


look out for her, and they are already installed at 
Mrs. Smith’s.” 

“Ah, I am sorry — so sorry — for ourselves, I 
mean. Glad I am for the baby that she has so beau- 
tiful a home. I shall go to see her some day if you 
will let me.” 

“Mrs. Smith will be delighted to have you,” and 
Mrs. Morton and Helen shook hands warmly with 
their warm-hearted friend. 

“Grandmother wanted Elisabeth, and now Mrs. 
Schuler — she’s a popular baby,” commented Helen. 
“Here’s Mrs. Schuler back again. Did you forget 
anything, Fraulein — Frau Schuler, I mean?” she 
stammered. 

“Only just half of my errand. The first part was 
for my husband : this is for my mother.” 

“How is Mrs. Flindenburg?” 

“Better than I have known her for years, now that 
she has two cares.” 

“Two cares? She looks after Mr. Schuler when 
you are in school, and — ” 

“And also since your young people began to work 
for the Christmas Ship. Do you remember, Helen, 
that Ethel Brown asked my mother to go to the Old 
Ladies’ Home to teach the old ladies who did not 
know how to knit? Every day she went for several 
weeks, and there was not one of them whom she 
could not help with her knitting. It did the mother 
much good to feel that she was of service, and it was 
a pleasure, also. Many of the old ladies are agree- 
able old ladies. They tell stories of their lives that 
are of interest.” 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 


69 


“Pm sure they enjoyed Mrs. Hindenburg.” 

“She goes still twice a week. Yesterday she was 
there and the Superintendent said to her, ‘Thursday 
is Thanksgiving, and this year have we no amuse- 
ment for our old ladies. Do you think of anything 
we can do?’ ” 

“What did she suggest?” 

“She said ‘No, I cannot thing of anything myself, 
but the young people, the United Service Club, I will 
ask them. They are always ready.’ So here am I 
asking you — ‘Can you do anything for the old 
ladies?”’ 

“We’d like to, of course,” began Helen slowly, 
“but I don’t see — Ethel Brown — ” she called to her 
sister who was passing through the hall. 

Ethel Brown came in, her brown eyes flashing and 
her cheeks glowing with the cold, and spoke to Mrs. 
Schuler. 

“Ethel Brown, is there anything the Club can do 
for the Old Ladies’ Home on Thanksgiving Day?” 

“On Thanksgiving Day?” repeated Ethel Brown. 
“I don’t — let’s see; in the morning there’s the foot- 
ball game — ” 

“I know,” nodded Mrs. Schuler; “our high school 
against the Glen Point high school.” 

“ — and we are to dine at midday with Grand- 
mother and Grandfather and we were to have our 
‘show’ there in the afternoon. I don’t see how we 
could give it again in the evening because the Han- 
cocks and Watkinses are in it and they will have to 
go home to their own late dinners.” 

“You see they are coming to the game and then 


70 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

they are going to stay to dine at Grandmother’s,” 
Helen explained. 

“I don’t see how we could manage it unless we 
took our ‘show’ up to the Old Ladies’ Home in the 
afternoon instead of giving it at Grandmother’s.” 

“We could do that.” 

“Do you suppose Grandmother would care ?” 

“If you can wait, Mrs. Schuler, I’ll call Grand- 
mother and find out,” and Helen ran to the tele- 
phone. 

In a few minutes she came back. 

“She says it won’t make a bit of difference to her,” 
she reported. “We can all dine there just as we 
planned, and then about four we can go to the Home 
and do our ‘stunts’ for the old ladies, and then the 
New York people and the Glen Point people can get 
home in plenty of time for their dinners.” 

“Thank you very much for giving us the chance,” 
said Ethel Blue, who had come in in time to hear the 
changed arrangements. “We ought to have thought 
of it ourselves.” 

“We’ve been so wrapped up in the Belgian baby 
that we haven’t thought about anything else,” ex- 
plained Dorothy, who had followed Ethel Blue. 

With Mrs. Schuler gone the girls sat down to 
think over their program. 

“To tell the truth it will call for a little change 
to make it suitable for an audience that isn’t com- 
posed entirely of your own family, because your own 
family is ready to forgive and forget all your mis- 
takes,” said Helen, and the others nodded assent. 

“Elisabeth has pushed everything else so com- 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 


7i 

pletely out of my head that I hardly remember what 
we had planned to do,” confessed Ethel. 

“Put your minds on this,” commanded the presi- 
dent, “Do you grasp the fact that to-morrow is 
Thanksgiving Day and if we’re going to make any 
changes w T e’ve got to do it this afternoon?” 

“You may have the benefit of my well-considered 
advice,” said Roger, leaning back comfortably in an 
easy chair, “but I’ll ask you to excuse me from learn- 
ing anything new between now and to-morrow after- 
noon. I’m that battered in the ribs at this moment 
from practice play that I couldn’t remember anything 
for a farm.” 

“I’ve noticed that result from injury to the ribs,” 
remarked Helen dryly. “All the same, we won’t 
call on you to do anything more than you were origi- 
nally booked for, for you and James will be doing 
your share to entertain the public to-morrow morn- 
ing.” 

Roger sat before the fire meditatively rubbing his 
ribs and occasionally feeling delicately of a spot on 
his shin that seemed to respond promptly to pressure. 
The girls sat near by, Dorothy and Ethel Blue work- 
ing on a small garment which they had already begun 
for Elisabeth under Miss Merriam’s direction. 

“We must have the President’s proclamation to 
start off with,” began Helen. 

“Don’t ask me to read it,” pleaded Roger. “1 
shall be lucky if I have any breath left in my body by 
that time.” 

“What with football and what with turkey — I sus- 
pect you’re right,” laughed Ethel Brown; “and James 


72 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

will be in the same condition. Tom will have to do 
it.” 

“Tom won’t be able to chirp. He’s got to root 
for both sides, Roger being on one and James on 
the other.” 

“He’ll have to. I wish the doctor was coming.” 

“He is.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Grandmother asked him when he brought Miss 
Merriam out.” 

“Then why can’t he do it?” 

“He can if he will.” 

“Roger, go and call him up right now and make 
sure he’s coming, and ask him if he’ll be so very 
good as to read the President’s proclamation to the 
old ladies at the Home to-morrow afternoon.” 

“Yep,” answered Roger concisely as he dragged 
his weary bones to the telephone. 

“Then of course we must have a short history of 
Thanksgiving,” said Helen.” 

“Historical oration by Miss Helen Morton,” Ethel 
Brown read from her notes in the tone of a master 
of ceremonies. 

“Don’t be absurd,” remonstrated her sister. “I’ll 
do the little talk, though, and you’d better follow it 
with that poem — Margaret Junkin Preston’s, isn’t 
it? — ‘The First Thanksgiving Day.’ ” 

“That’s the right place for the poem. We ought 
to sing something somewhere about here.” 

“Aunt Louise has the music for that hymn they 
sang in church last Sunday — ‘Lord of the harvest, 
Thee we hail!’. We all know it pretty well, and it 


THE FOOTBALL GAME . 


73 

will go all right if we sing it over once or twice 
with her.” 

“Let’s do that. I don’t see why we can’t have the 
main thing right now. It seems to me that’s a long 
enough introduction.” 

“Dr. Edward says he’ll come,” reported Roger, 
returning from the telephone; “and he says he’ll read 
the proclamation with pleasure.” 

“Aren’t all the Watkinses splendid! You don’t 
have to coax them till you’re tired out before they 
agree to do things ! Did he say anything else?” 

“Just asked how the baby was, and if Miss Mer- 
riam seemed to be taking hold all right.” 

“He’ll be wanting to adopt the baby next ! We’ll 
do well if we succeed in keeping her for ourselves,” 
laughed Ethel Brown. 

Mrs. Morton tapped at the Ethels’ door early the 
next morning before the girls were out of bed. 

“Will you two get up early,” she asked, “and take 
their dinner basket to the Sullivans’ ? I told Roger 
last evening I’d ask you to do it for him so that he 
can be as fresh as possible for his game.” 

“We will,” promised Ethel Brown sleepily. “Be- 
fore breakfast?” 

“Right after it.” 

At breakfast Ethel Blue brought up a matter that 
had been disturbing her. 

“When you came in and asked us to take the 
basket to the Sullivans,” she began, “it made me 
realize that the Club wasn’t doing anything for any- 
body this Thanksgiving.” 

“You’re going to the Home,” said her aunt. 


74 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“But we weren’t until Mrs. Schuler suggested it. 
We ought to have done a lot of things for peo- 
ple to be thankful for, and it just didn’t enter our 
heads.” 

“The Christmas Ship and the baby threw you out 
of your usual- train of thought.” 

“It ought not to. You didn’t forget the Sulli- 
vans.” 

“I tell you what’s the matter with us,” decided 
Roger. “It’s what Mother talked to us about a 
while ago; we’ve been doing things for people sev- 
eral thousand miles away and forgetting people at 
home.” 

There was a self-condemnatory silence. 

“I shouldn’t blame myself for what I had done,” 
remonstrated Mrs. Morton. 

“I’m not, Mother; it’s for what we haven’t done. 
But we might as well begin to do right off. Tom 
says that his father says that there’s going to be a 
fearful lot of suffering this winter among more than 
the very poor in New York. He knows of skilled 
workmen walking the streets hunting for work of any 
kind.” 

“And the winter hasn’t begun yet! The war 
touches more than the people engaged in it!” 

“It certainly has stuck its claws in over here! If 
we — the Club, I mean, — hadn’t been so rattled- 
headed we might have done several little things for 
several people to-day.” 

“You weren’t rattle-headed; you were absorbed.” 

“That sounds better, thank you, Mother, but the 
result is the same.” 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 


75 

“Let’s not worry ourselves about what’s all over,” 
suggested Ethel Blue. 

“Let’s pitch in and do things for the natives all the 
rest of the winter to make up for it!” said Roger en- 
thusiastically. 

“That’s the way,” smiled his mother. “The same 
opportunity never comes twice, Grandfather always 
says, but other opportunities replace it.” 

“Watch us nab them!” promised Roger. “Will 
you excuse me, Mother? I want to get into my togs 
early.” 

“Much obliged to you babes for taking that basket 
for me,” he called to the Ethels when he came down 
stairs a few minutes later, a thickly padded warrior. 

“Do your best for the family honor,” they replied 
as he left for some practice work before the game 
was called. 

Fortunately for the onlookers, Thanksgiving Day 
of 1914 was unusually mild. The Ethels, fresh 
from their rapid walk to the Sullivans’, found their 
heavy jackets almost too warm when they got into 
Mr. Emerson’s car, which he brought over to gather 
the Morton-Smith contingent, for the football field 
was not far from his house. Della had come out 
from town with her brothers, but the young men had 
walked over to the field while she joined the girls at 
the Mortons’. James and Margaret came on the 
trolley from Glen Point, James in a state of high dis- 
gust because his father had forbidden him to play on 
account of his leg. 

“I hadn’t the slightest idea you were thinking of 
doing anything so foolish,” Dr. Hancock had said 


76 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

severely. “I should suppose that a physician’s son 
would have more sense.” 

He had even forbidden his walking from the 
trolley to the field, so poor James had to play the 
wounded hero still longer and go out with the girls 
in the automobile. 

“There’s one good thing about it,” said Ethel 
Blue, “though it may not comfort you. We Rose- 
mont people can put all our strength into hoping our 
side will win. If you were on the other eleven we 
couldn’t help wanting your side to have a little luck.” 

“That’s the way I feel about Glen Point and Rose- 
mont,” said Margaret. “Of course, Glen Point is 
my side, but I’m willing Roger’s eleven should make 
a point or two.” 

“Roger would be delighted with your generosity,” 
laughed Helen. 

The automobile stopped at the Emersons’ long 
enough to allow Miss Merriam to leave her charge 
in Mrs. Emerson’s care, and then it sped on to the 
field where the onlookers were already seated in 
laughing throngs on the bleachers. Mrs. Morton 
and her sister-in-law and Grandfather Emerson pre- 
ferred to stay in the car where they could have com- 
fortable backs. But the youngsters, including Dicky 
and Miss Merriam, made their way to the benches 
where their friends had already begun to root for 
their respective sides. 

James and Margaret compromised between their 
natural inclinations and their courtesy to their hosts 
by seating themselves on the dividing line where they 
could join in the shouting for either side. The Wat- 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 


77 


kins boys joined them when the game was called and 
non-combatants were ordered from the field. Ed- 
ward placed himself beside Gertrude Merriam and 
Tom occupied a seat just behind Helen and Mar- 
garet where he could lean over and tell them the fine 
points of the game. 

No one who had the good fortune to be present at 
that Rosemont-Glen Point high school game of 
Thanksgiving Day, 1914, will soon forget It. The 
umpire, who was a Yale senior, said that he never 
had seen so swift a game or one that stayed even for 
so long. The benches went wild when one side after 
the other added a point only by the hardest kind of 
work. 

For one reason the game was unsatisfactory. 
There were no spectacular plays. It was all close 
fighting with every inch of the ground won by the 
most steadfast offensive work and lost only after the 
most determined resistance. 

“It’s not unlike what’s going on in France at this 
moment,” commented Mr. Emerson. 

“I wish somebody would do something grand 1” 
sighed Ethel Blue, too excited to speak above a 
whisper; and just at that moment she had her wish. 

It was Roger who did the something grand she 
had hoped for. Roger, her own cousin. She fairly 
shook with agitation, and when his great run down 
the length of the field was over and the game was 
won for Rosemont, she and Ethel Brown found them- 
selves clinging to each other’s hands. 

“Roger, our Roger!” they whispered, and then 
they rejoined in the Rosemont high school yell that 


78 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

rang across the field and was answered by the Glen 
Pointers, who shouted it in honor of their successful 
opponents. 

Mrs. Morton had taken a bag of clothes to Mrs. 
Emerson’s for Roger to change into, and it was a 
radiant and much scrubbed youth who sat down at 
the long table and received the congratulations of his 
family and friends. James and Margaret applauded 
him as warmly as if he had done his work for Glen 
Point, though of course they were sorry that their 
own school had not won. The Watkinses were so 
enthusiastic as to be accused by Grandfather Emer- 
son of forgetting their neutrality, and Mrs. Emerson 
joined in the approval. 

“This looks like a Thanksgiving of the olden 
days,” commented Mr. Emerson, looking down the 
long table. “When I used to go to my grandfather’s 
in New Hampshire for Thanksgiving there used to 
be a gathering like this, only it was all made up of 
cousins.” 

“How many are we here?” wondered Edward, 
and they all began to count. 

“If only Father could have come!” sighed Ethel 
Blue, who had hoped, but vainly, that her father 
would have a furlough when General Funston and his 
troops left Vera Cruz. 

“Two Emersons, six Mortons, two Smiths, three 
Watkinses, two Hancocks and Miss Merriam — 
that’s sixteen,” announced James, who as treasurer 
of the Club, tried to be a ready reckoner. 

“And Elisabeth of Belgium in the next room makes 
seventeen,” added Miss Merriam. 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 


79 

“We surely mustn’t forget ‘Ayleesabet,’ ” said 
Della. “Has she said anything else yet?” 

“She’s trying to say ‘Gertrude,’ my name, but she 
hasn’t quite mastered it,” smiled Miss Merriam. 

“I shouldn’t find any trouble at all in that,” mur- 
mured Edward Watkins, who sat next to her, and 
who received as his reward; — 

“On the contrary it’s a name quite impossible for 
grown men to pronounce !” 

The dinner was delicious. Everybody enjoyed 
every mouthful but no one more than Roger, whose 
violent exercise had given him an appetite to corre- 
spond. They ate their nuts and raisins in the draw- 
ing room and they were still cracking nuts and jokes 
when Mr. Emerson looked at his watch and an- 
nounced that it was time for them to go to the Old 
Ladies’ Home, “if the curtain is to ring up at the ap- 
pointed hour.” 

“It certainly must do that,” said Helen deter- 
minedly; “we mustn’t keep the old ladies wait- 
ing.” 

The boys, all but James, agreed to walk to the 
Home, and the rest piled into the car which was 
panting before the door. At Dorothy’s they left 
Miss Merriam, who insisted on staying at home with 
Elisabeth. 

“She’s had enough excitement for one day,” she 
declared, “and I couldn’t think of your staying with 
her when Dorothy is going to read,” she said to Mrs. 
Smith. 

At the Mortons’ Roger’s football clothes were re- 
placed in the car by the costumes necessary for the 


8o ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


entertainment, and the motor sped on to the Home 
with the girls, now somewhat stilled by the duties just 
ahead of them, and the elders entirely calm as they 
looked forward to being entertained. 


CHAPTER VI 


“the courtship of miles standish” 

O NCE unloaded at the steps of the Home, the 
machine went back to pick up the boys, while 
the girls entered and set to work at once according 
to the sub-division they had planned. 

There was a platform across one end of the parlqr 
where the old ladies sat and knitted, and Helen saw 
to it that the curtains had bebn properly hung to 
shut off the sides so that they could be used for en- 
trances, and that the curtain which closed the open- 
ing pulled properly. 

“Eve seen so many curtains that stuck half way,” 
laughed the superintendent, “that I make a point of 
having ours in apple-pie order.” 

So Helen found it, and she turned her attention 
to helping Ethel Brown get the “properties” together 
— the chairs and tables and other furnishings that 
would be needed. Ethel Blue laid out the costumes, 
and Dorothy had the piano moved to the spot that 
would be most convenient for her mother, and pre- 
pared the music and hymn books that would be used. 
When the boys arrived everything was ready and the 
audience was gathered. The old ladies had had the 
privilege of asking their friends for the afternoon 
and the room was full. Mr. and Mrs. Schuler and 
Mrs. Hindenburg sat on the front row, and the 
38 81 


82 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


Misses Clark, who employed Roger as furnace man, 
were just behind them. 

“I suppose Miss Merriam thought this affair too 
exciting for Elisabeth,” Dr. Watkins said as he 
looked about and failed to see Miss Merriam and 
her charge. 

“She thought she’d had quite enough for her first 
Thanksgiving Day,” replied Ethel Blue. “Don’t 
you think so?” 

Dr. Watkins thought she had. He looked very 
grave as he mounted the platform to read President 
Wilson’s proclamation. He did it well, and his ef- 
fort was heartily received by his hearers. 

“There’s one thing I like about this U. S. C., or 
whatever it is called,” said Mr. Wheeler, the high 
school principal, to his neighbor, Miss Dawson, the 
domestic science teacher, “the youngsters don’t make 
monkeys of themselves. When they do funny things 
they do them whole-heartedly, but they do serious 
things with seriousness and bring out all the value 
there is in them.” 

“The next number on our program is one that we 
are all, perhaps, familiar with,” announced Helen. 
“Everybody loves Longfellow and everybody has 
read ‘The Courtship of Miles Standish.’ It is too 
long for us to have the whole of it read this after- 
noon, but Dorothy Smith is going to read extracts 
from it and as she reads there will be shown still pic- 
tures and moving pictures. Of course I don’t mean 
real ‘movies,’ ” she explained, “but sometimes there 
will be tableaux, and sometimes the actors in the 
tableaux will follow the poem with pantomime.” 


“COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH” 83 


There was an intermission of ten minutes, and 
this proved long enough for the actors to put on their 
costumes which were all ready for them to slip into. 
During the singing of the hymn Mrs. Morton and 
Mrs. Emerson had gone behind the curtain and set 
the scene as closely as they could according to the 
description of Miles Standish’s room as it is given 
in the opening of the poem; — 

His glittering weapons of warfare, 

Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, — 
Cutlass and corslet of steel and his trusty sword of Damascus, 
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystic Arabic 
sentence, 

While underneath, in a corner, were fowling piece, musket 
and matchlock. 

Captain and Lieutenant Morton, in the course of 
their service in the Army and Navy, had gathered a 
small but interesting collection of old and strange 
weapons and these, although they were not exactly 
those mentioned (and Roger had even suggested 
that they could make pasteboard ones that would be 
more accurate) gave a sufficiently military atmos- 
phere to the room of the Puritan Captain. A shelf 
of books on the opposite wall showed whence he 
drew his “consolation and comfort.” 

James was chosen to represent Miles Standish be- 
cause he was the shortest of the boys, and when the 
curtain was drawn he was discovered striding about 
the room, dressed in “doublet and hose and boots 
of Cordovan leather.” Mrs. Hancock had man- 
aged to give a suggestion of a colonial doublet by 


84 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

fastening a tape inside a coat of Dr. Hancock’s 
which was too large for James. This cord, tied 
around the waist out of sight, pulled the coat in and 
gave it the desired fullness. Knickerbockers and 
boots to the knee fulfilled the other requirements and 



Roger as John Alden 


from a trunk strap passing from the right shoulder 
to the left hip hung his sword — another piece from 
Lieutenant Morton’s collection. 

Because Roger was “fair-haired, azure-eyed,” he 
had been cast for John Alden, and as the Captain 


“COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH” 85 


strode nervously about the room, Roger sat at the 
side writing diligently. A black coat pinched in at 
the waist by the same device that had served James, 
black knickerbockers, long black stockings and low 
shoes with square buckles made of cardboard covered 
with silver paper, made a suitable costume. James 
wore a brown beard which fastened securely by wires 
over his ears, but Roger, who was supposed to repre- 
sent a much younger man, was not made up. 
“Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the 
Mayflower 

Dorothy began her reading, — 

Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupt- 
ing, 

Spake in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish, the Captain 
of Plymouth, 

“Look at these arms,” he said, “the warlike weapons that 
hang here 

Burnished and bright and clean as if for parade or inspec- 
tion!” 

James waved his hand to the weapons hanging 
against the wall but Roger did not stop his writing 
though it was evident that he was listening. 

Then Dorothy went on with the Captain’s his- 
tory of the Damascus sword which he had fought with 
in Flanders and the breastplate that once had saved 
his life. As she mentioned each piece James pointed 
it out, and when she described the colony’s little army 
of twelve men and the preparations for resisting any 
assaults of the Indians, Roger as John Alden, nodded 
and smiled to show that he was following, though too 


86 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


busy writing letters to send home by the returning 
Mayflower to lay down his pen and listen. Sadly 
the Captain looked from the window at the grave 
of Rose Standish, “On the hill by the sea,” and then, 
finding John Alden an unresponsive companion, he 
took down a book and, seating himself by the win- 
dow, began to read. 

All was silent again; the Captain continued his reading. 
Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the 
stripling 

Writing epistles important to go next day by the May- 
flower, 

Filled with the name and the fame of the Puritan maiden, 
Priscilla ; 

Finally closing his book with a bang of the ponderous cover 
Sudden and loud as the sound of a soldier grounding his 
musket ; 

Thus to the young man spake Miles Standish, the Captain 
of Plymouth. 

Then followed the disclosure of the Captain’s de- 
sire to marry Priscilla, and James portrayed very 
well the embarrassment of the rough soldier who 
was “a maker of war and not a maker of phrases” 
and who therefore asked John to undertake for him 
the task of wooing the very maiden on whom the 
youth had set his own affections. And Roger, “all 
aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, be- 
wildered,” tried to mask his dismay and tried to 
smile and yet made it plain that he found himself 
placed in a position almost impossible to meet. 
Still, “the name of friendship is sacred,” and when 


“COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH” 87 


the curtain fell it was clear that “Friendship pre- 
vailed over love.” 

When the curtains were drawn once more there be- 
came visible a plain light green curtain — really two 
pairs of portieres which the Ethels had borrowed 
from doors of the Home. These represented the 
Plymouth woods through which John Alden was pass- 
ing on his errand to Priscilla. They were hung at 
the front of the stage so that the operations which 
were transforming Miles Standish’s grim chamber 
into the living room of the Mullens’ cottage might be 
carried on while Dorothy was reading. This saved 
several minutes of time, and the saving of time in 
entertainments of this sort was a point which the 
Watkinses, who were familiar with this sort of thing, 
insisted on over and over again. 

“Don’t keep your audience waiting,” Tom said re- 
peatedly. “It’s too great a strain on their patience.” 

The scene was unoccupied when the outer curtains 
parted and Dorothy’s firm, pleasant voice began the 
reading of the section called “The Lover’s Errand.” 
Roger appeared and walked slowly across, making 
gestures that indicated great distress of mind. He 
passed out of sight and the reading went on, telling 
of his plucking of mayflowers for “Priscilla, the May- 
flower of Plymouth.” 

The green curtains parted, and there came into 
view the dusky interior of Priscilla’s house, with the 
maiden seated at the spinning wheel, “the carded 
wool like a snowdrift piled at her knee” and the 
psalm-book opened wide across her lap. Priscilla 
was Ethel Blue, and so demure did she look in her 


88 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


gray dress with its wide white collar and cuffs and 
so sweet was her soft voice lifted in the stately music 
of the Hundredth Psalm that the audience broke into 
applause that brought a vivid blush to her cheeks. 

It was appropriate that it should, for as she fin- 
ished the psalm John Alden appeared at the door, 
bringing his nosegay of mayflowers. Priscilla “rose 
as he entered and gave him her hand in signal of wel- 
come,” and then they fell to talking — through Dor- 
othy — of springtime at home. Every one’s sym- 
pathy went out to John Alden when Priscilla said, “I 
almost wish myself back in Old England, I feel so 
lonely and wretched,” and he was debarred from 
comforting her by his promise to his friend. 
Straightway he told her that he had come “with an 
offer and proffer of marriage made by a good man 
and true, Miles Standish, the Captain of Plymouth.” 

Ethel Blue’s gesture of surprise was well done, and 
her pantomime and Roger’s as he pressed his friend’s 
suit was amply expressive. It reached its climax 
when Dorothy read; — 

But as he warmed and glowed in his simple and eloquent 
language, 

Quite forgetful of self and full of the praise of his rival, 
Archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes overrunning with 
laughter, 

Said, in a tremulous voice, “Why don’t you speak for your- 
self, John?” 

Round after round of clapping followed, for the 
whole scene had been charming. The green cur- 
tains fell upon it, however, and once more John ap- 


“COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH” 89 

peared rushing distractedly away from, the house 
where he had won a victory of which he could not 
avail himself. Dorothy shortened considerably the 
lover’s musings, and here the managers of the panto- 
mime took a liberty with the order of things as estab- 
lished in the poem. There it says that John Alden re- 
ported his errand to Standish in the Captain’s room. 
For convenience in arranging the next scene Roger 
and James met in the open — before the green cur- 
tains — and there the young man told of his interview 
and its astonishing ending. 

James’s burst of fury was well simulated and he 
strode off indignantly to the council, leaving Roger to 
pray for strength to endure the accusation of having 
been a false friend. 

Once more the green curtains were drawn, this 
time upon a room severely plain. Around the table 
on which lay a ponderous Bible and a rattlesnake skin 
“filled, like a quiver, with arrows,” sat the elders of 
Plymouth — Edward Watkins with George Foster, 
Gregory Patton and two other high school boys. 
They were all dressed like Alden, in dark loose coats, 
tight at the waist, full knee breeches, long stockings 
and low shoes with large buckles. Near them was 
an Indian messenger — Tom Watkins — his face made 
copper color, and a blanket crossed over one brown 
arm and under the other. 

Into this conference, which was of a serious na- 
ture, judging by Dorothy’s words and the gestures of 
the men, strode Miles Standish, still enraged by his 
interview with John Alden. He spurned the mild 
counsels of the others, and — 


9 o ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

Then from the rattlesnake’s skin, with a sudden, contemptu- 
ous gesture, 

Jerking the Indian arrows, he filled it with powder and 
bullets 

Full to the very jaws, and handed it back to the savage, 
Saying in thundering tones: “Here, take it! this is your 
answer !” 

The sections of the poem entitled “The Sailing of 
the Mayflower” and “Priscilla” Dorothy cut so that 
they told in the briefest way of the early departure 
of Standish with his small army and of the sailing 
of the ship back to England. The women of Plym- 
outh — Helen, Ethel Brown, Margaret and Della, all 
dressed like Priscilla in gray or black plain dresses 
with wide collars and cuffs and a tight cap — appeared 
before the green curtains that represented the open 
country. They paused on their way to the harbor. 
Following them came John Alden, meditating as to 
his own departure. He made up his mind not to 
go, and, meeting Priscilla, told her of his plan and its 
change. Then “homeward together they walked” 
from the stage. 

With the outer curtains closed Dorothy read a 
shortened version of the section called “The March 
of Miles Standish,” describing the soldiers fighting 
with the Indians, and then the drawn curtains re- 
vealed once more Priscilla’s cottage with the maiden 
spinning and the youth awkwardly holding her yarn. 
Upon this scene appeared a messenger bringing news 
of the death of Standish at the hands of the Indians, 
a loss to the colony, but a loss which meant release 


“COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH” 91 


from suspicion to the man who had been accused of 
being a false friend. 

For just a minute the green curtains swung to- 
gether. When they opened the elders had gathered 
and the women. Before them stood John and Pris- 
cilla. It was evident they had just been married and 
were receiving the good wishes of their friends. 
Upon the happy scene a form appeared — “clad in 
armor of steel, a sombre and sorrowful figure!” It 
was Miles Standish, not dead, as had been reported, 
but returned in the flesh. He grasped the bride- 
groom’s hand and asked forgiveness for his hasty 
words. Bowing, he “saluted Priscilla gravely, and 
after the manner of old-fashioned gentry in Eng- 
land.” The people crowded around him “question- 
ing, answering, laughing and each interrupting the 
other.” 

Meanwhile the bridegroom went forth and stood with the 
bride at the doorway 

Breathing the perfumed air of that warm and beautiful 
morning. 

Touched with autumnal tints but lonely and sad in the 
sunshine 

Lay extended before them the land of toil and privation : 

But to their eyes transfigured it seemed as the Garden of 
Eden, 

Filled with the presence of God, whose voice was the sound 
of the ocean. 

Here Dorothy brought her reading to an end, for 
it was not possible for the bridal procession with the 


92 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

bride riding on a snow-white bull to be adequately- 
brought before audience. Roger had suggested bor- 
rowing the hokey-pokey man’s donkey; Tom had 
thought a bicycle possible; James suggested that 
Miles Standish would be doing the handsome thing 
by the young couple if he joined hands with John 
Alden and made a “chair” in which to carry the bride 
to her new home. Finally it was decided to leave 
the pair at the doorway, and not even to read the de- 
scription of the procession. 


CHAPTER VII 


ELISABETH MAKES FRIENDS 

U NDER Miss Merriam’s skilful care Elisabeth 
of Belgium slowly climbed the hill of health. 
She had grown so weak that she required to be 
treated like a child much younger than she really 
was. Miss Merriam gave her extremely nourishing 
food in small amounts and often; she made her rest 
hours as long as those of a baby of a year and her 
naps were always taken in the open air, where she lay 
warmly curled up in soft rugs like a little Esquimo. 
At night she and her care-taker slept on an upper 
porch where she drew deep draughts of fresh air 
far down into the depths of her tiny relaxed body. 

“Ayleesabet” — everybody adopted her own pro- 
nunciation — was napping in Dicky’s old perambu- 
lator on the porch of Dorothy’s cottage one Satur- 
day morning early in December. The Ethels, their 
coat collars turned up and rugs wrapping their knees, 
were keeping guard beside her. Both of them were 
alternately knitting and warming their fingers. 

“When she wakes up we can roll her down the 
street a little way,” said Ethel Blue. 

“Did Miss Merriam say so?” 

“Yes, she said we might keep her out until 
twelve.” 


93 


94 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“Are the Hancocks and Watkinses coming early 
to the Club meeting?” 

“About half past two. The afternoons are so 
short now that they thought they’d better come early 
so it wouldn’t be pitch black night when they got 
home.” 

“We ought to do some planning for Christmas this 
afternoon. There’s a lot to think about.” 

“There’s one Christmas gift I wish Aunt Marian 
would give us.” 

“What’s that?” asked Ethel Brown expectantly 
for she had great faith in the ideas that Ethel Blue 
brought forth now and then. 

“Don’t you think it would be nice if she would let 
us have a visit from Katharine Jackson for one of 
our presents?” 

Katharine Jackson was the daughter of an army 
officer stationed at Fort Edward in Buffalo. Her 
father and Ethel Blue’s father had been in the same 
class at West Point and her mother had known Ethel 
Blue’s mother who had died when she was a tiny 
baby. The two Ethels had had a week-end with 
Katharine the previous summer, going to Buffalo 
from Chautauqua for the purpose of spending a 
glorious Saturday at Niagara Falls. 

“O-oh!” cried Ethel Brown, “that’s one of the 
finest things you ever thought of! Let’s speak to 
Mother as soon as we go home and write to Mrs. 
Jackson and Katharine this afternoon if she says 
‘yes.’ ” 

“I’m almost sure she will say ‘yes.’ ” 

“So am I. If Katharine comes we can save all our 


ELISABETH MAKES FRIENDS 95 

Christmas festivities for the time she’s here so 
there’ll be plenty to entertain her.” 

“Ayleesabet is waking. Hullo, sweet lamb,” and 
both girls leaned over the carriage, happy because 
their nursling condescended to smile on them when 
she opened her eyes. Miss Merriam brought out a 
cup of warm food when it was reported to her that 
her charge had finished her nap, and when the lunch- 
eon was consumed with evidences of satisfaction the 
Ethels took the carriage out on to the sidewalk. 
Elisabeth sat up, still sleepy-eyed and rosy from her 
nap, and gazed about her seriously at the road that 
was already becoming familiar. 

“Oh, dear,” sighed Ethel Blue under her breath, 
“there are the Misses Clark coming out their house.” 

“I hope they aren’t going to complain of Roger,” 
Ethel Brown said, for Roger acted as furnace man 
for these elderly ladies who had gained for them- 
selves a reputation of being ill-natured. 

“It’s too late to cross the street. They look as if 
they were coming expressly to speak to us. See, 
they haven’t got their hats on.” 

It did indeed look as if the little procession was 
being waylaid, for the Misses Clark stood inside their 
gate waiting for the Ethels to come up. 

“We saw you coming,” they said when the car- 
riage came near enough, “and we came out to see 
the baby. This is the Belgian baby?” 

“Yes; this is Ayleesabet.” 

“Ayleesabet? Elisabeth, I suppose. Why do 
you call her that?” 

“That’s what she calls herself, and it seems to be 


9 6 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

the only word she remembers so we thought we’d let 
her hear it instead of giving her a new name.” 

“Ayleesabet,” repeated the elder Miss Clark, com- 
ing through the gate. “Will you shake hands with 
me, Ayleesabet?” 

She held out her hand to the solemn child who sat 
staring at her with unmoved expression. Ethel 
Blue hesitatingly began to explain that the baby did 
not yet know how to shake hands, when to their 
amazement Elisabeth extended a tiny mittened paw 
and laid it in Miss Clark’s hand. 

“The dear child!” exclaimed both women, and the 
elder flushed warmly as if the delicate contact had 
touched an intimate chord. She gave the mitten a 
pressure and held it, Elisabeth making no objection. 

“Won’t you bring her in to see us once in a while ?” 
begged the younger Miss Clark. “We should like 
so much to have you. We’ve watched her go by 
with that charming looking young woman who takes 
care of her.” 

“Miss Merriam. She’s from the School of 
Mothercraft,” and Ethel Brown explained the work 
of the school. 

“How fortunate you were to know about the 
school. It would have been anxious work for Mrs. 
Morton and Mrs. Smith if they had had full re- 
sponsibility for such a feeble baby.” 

“We all love Miss Merriam,” said Ethel Blue. 
“Say ‘Gertrude,’ Elisabeth,” and Elisabeth obediently 
repeated “Gertrude” in her soft pipe, and looked 
about for the owner of the name. 



“The Ethels took the carriage out on the sidewalk ” 


[See p. 95] 





































































' 


. 




















































ELISABETH MAKES FRIENDS 97 

“We’ll bring her in to call on you,” promised the 
Ethels, saying “Good-bye,” and they went on feeling 
far more gently disposed toward their cross-patch 
neighbors than they ever had before. As for the 
“cross-patches,” they looked after the carriage as 
long as it was in sight. 

When the girls returned to Dorothy’s they found 
Edward Watkins there. 

“It’s very nice of you to come out to see how the 
baby is getting along,” said Ethel Brown, going in 
to the living room, while Ethel Blue helped Miss 
Merriam take Elisabeth out of the carriage. 

“I mean to keep an eye on her,” replied Edward 
gravely. 

“You don’t really have to do it if it isn’t 
convenient, you know,” returned Ethel. “Of course 
we appreciate it tremendously, but Dr. Hancock is 
nearer and he’s been coming over quite regularly.” 

“I shan’t try to compete with Dr. Hancock,” 
promised Dr. Watkins; “but Elisabeth is the Club 
baby, you know, and Tom and Della are members 
so as their brother I feel almost a personal interest.” 

“It’s lovely of you to feel so. I just didn’t want 
you to be bothered,” explained Ethel conscientiously. 

When Miss Merriam brought the baby in he ex- 
amined her carefully as one tiny hand after another 
was released from its mitten and one slender leg 
after the other emerged from the knitted trousers. 

“She isn’t what you’d call really fat yet, is she?” 
he commented. 

“She’s a porpoise compared with what she was 'at 


39 


98 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

the beginning,” insisted Ethel Blue stoutly. “Miss 
Merriam can tell you how many ounces she has 
gained.” 

“She’s gained in happiness, any way,” smiled the 
young physician as the baby murmured “Gertrude” 
and patted Gertrude’s flushing cheek. 

There was a full meeting of the United Service 
Club when Helen called it to order at a quarter 
of three and informed the members that it was high 
time for them to discuss what they were going to do 
as a club for Christmas. 

“To tell the truth, I was awfully ashamed about 
our forgetting to do anything for anybody on 
Thanksgiving. It all came out right, because our 
‘show’ for the Home went off well and the old 
ladies were pleased, but we didn’t originate the 
idea and I feel as if we ought to make up for our 
forgetfulness by doing something extra at Christ- 
mas. Now who has any suggestions?” 

“I’d like to know first,” asked James, the treas- 
urer, “just how we stand with regard to Elisabeth. 
I know we can’t afford to pay Miss Merriam’s 
salary; I’m afraid we’ve got to call on the grown- 
ups for that — but we can do something and we 
must, and we ought to find out about it ex- 
actly.” 

“Mrs. Emerson is paying half Miss Merriam’s 
salary,” explained Dorothy. 

“And Aunt Louise the other half,” added Ethel 
Brown. 

“I wrote to Father about Elisabeth,” said Ethel 
Blue, “and he said he’d send us a hundred dollars 


ELISABETH MAKES FRIENDS 99 

a year for her. We could put it in the bank for 
her, he said, if we didn’t need to use it for doctors’ 
bills or anything else.” 

“Here’s my pay from the Misses Clark; they 
forked over this morning,” said Roger elegantly, 
as he in turn “forked over” a bill to James. 
“Madam President, may the treasurer report, 
please?” 

“The treasurer will kindly tell us what there is 
at the Club’s disposal,” directed Helen. 

“The treasurer is obliged to confess that there 
isn’t very much,” admitted James. “The Christ- 
mas Ship just about cleaned us out, and the cost of 
some of the material for costumes for ‘Miles 
Standish’ nearly used up what was left. This green- 
back of Roger’s is the best looking thing I’ve seen for 
some days.” 

“I haven’t paid my dues for December,” con- 
fessed Ethel Blue. “Here they are.” 

It proved that one or two of the others were 
also delinquent, but even after all had paid there 
was a very small sum in hand compared with what 
they needed. 

“There isn’t any use getting gloomy over the 
situation,” urged Helen. “If we haven’t got the 
money, we haven’t, that’s all, and we must do the 
best we can without it. Mother and Aunt Louise 
will wait to be paid. It isn’t as if we had been 
extravagant and run into debt. The baby came 
unexpectedly and had to be made comfortable right 
off. We can assume that responsibility and pay up 
when we are able. I don’t think that we ought to 


100 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


let that interrupt any plans we have to make Christ- 
mas pleasant for anybody.” 

“I believe you’re right,” agreed Tom, “but I 
think we must limit ourselves somewhat.” 

“You’ll be limited by the low state of the treas- 
ury, young man,” growled James. 

“Wait and hear me. I imagine that what the 
president has in mind for our Christmas work is 
doing something for the children in the Glen Point 
orphanage.” 

Helen and Margaret nodded. 

“What do you say, then, if we decide to limit our 
Christmas work as a club to doing something for 
the orphanage and for Elisabeth? And I should 
like to suggest that no one of us gives a personal 
present that costs more than ten cents to any rela- 
tive or friend. Then we can place in the club treas- 
ury whatever we had intended to spend more than 
that, and do the best we can with whatever amount 
that puts into James’s hands for the Glen Point 
orphans and Elisabeth. Am I clear?” and he sank 
back in his^chair in seeming exhaustion. 

“You’re very long-winded, Thomas,” pronounced 
Roger, patting his friend on the shoulder, “but 
we get your idea. I second the motion, Madam 
President. We’ll give ten cent presents to our 
relatives and friends and put all the rest of our 
stupendous fortunes into giving the orphans a good 
time and getting some duds for Ayleesabet or pay- 
ing for what she has already.” 

The motion was carried unanimously, and each 
one of them handed to James a calculation of how 


ELISABETH MAKES FRIENDS ioi 


much he would be able to contribute to the Christ- 
mas fund. 

“It will come pretty near being ten cent presents 
for the orphans,” James pronounced after some 
work with pencil and paper. “We can’t give them 
anything that the wildest imagination could call 
handsome.” 

“There are plenty of people interested in the or- 
phanage who give the children clothes and all their 
necessities, you know,” Margaret reminded her 
brother. “Don’t you remember when we talked 
this over before we said that what we’d do for them 
would be to give them some foolishnesses — just 
silly things that all children enjoy and that no one 
ever seems to think it worth while to give to young- 
sters in an institution.” 

“Will they have a tree?” 

“Our church always sends a tree over there, but 
I must say it’s a pretty lean tree,” commented 
James. “It has pretty lights and a bag of candy 
apiece for the kids, and they stand around and sing 
carols before they’re allowed to take a *suck of the 
candy, and that’s all there is to it.” 

“The Young Ladies’ Guild has an awfully good 
time dressing it,” testified Margaret. 

“So did I winding up Dicky’s mechanical toys last 
Christmas,” said Roger rather shamefacedly. “I’m 
afraid the poor kid didn’t get much of a look-in until 
I got tired of them.” 

“In view of these revelations, Madam President,” 
began Tom, “I move that whatever we do for the 
orphans shall be something that they can join in 


io2 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


themselves, and not just look at. Anybody got an 
idea?” 

“Our minds have been so full of the Christmas 
Ship that it has squeezed everything else out. I’m 
afraid,” admitted Della, with a delicate frown draw- 
ing her eyebrows. 

“Why can’t we continue to make the Christmas 
Ship useful somehow?” inquired Dorothy. 

“Meaning?” 

“I hardly know. Perhaps we could have our 
presents for the children in a Christmas Ship instead 
of on a tree.” 

“That’s good. They’ll have one tree anyway; 
this will be a novelty, and it can be made pretty.” 

“Can we get enough stuff to fill a ship?” 

“Depends on the size of the ship.” 

“It wouldn’t have to be full; just the deck could 
be heaped with parcels.” 

“And the rigging could be lighted.” 

“How can we ring in the children so they can 
have more of a part than singing carols?” 

“Why not make them do the work themselves — 
the work of distributing the gifts?” 

“I know,” cried Helen. “Why not tell them 
about the real Christmas Ship and then tell them 
that they are to play that they all went over with it on 
its Christmas errand. We can dress up some of the 
boys as sailors — ” 

“Child, you don’t realize what you’re suggesting,” 
exclaimed Margaret. “Do you know there are 
twenty or twenty-five boys there? We couldn’t 
make all those costumes !” 


ELISABETH MAKES FRIENDS 103 

“That’s true,” agreed Helen, dismayed. Her 
dismay soon turned to cheerfulness, however. 
“Why couldn’t they wear an arm band marked 
SAILOR? They can use their imaginations to sup- 
ply the rest of the costume.” 

“That would do well enough. And have another 
group of them marked LONGSHOREMAN.” 

“We can pick out the tallest boy to represent 
Commander Courtney and some of the others to be 
officers.” 

“You’re giving all the work to the boys; what can 
the girls do?” 

“Don’t let’s have any of them play orphan. That 
would come too near home. They won’t follow 
the story too far. They’ll be contented to distribute 
the gifts to each other.” 

“Here’s where the girls can come in. The offi- 
cers can bring the good ship into port, and the sailors 
can make a handsome showing along the side as she 
comes up to the pier, and the longshoremen can 
stagger ashore laden with big bundles. On the 
shore there can be groups of girls who will undo the 
large bundles and take out the small ones that they 
contain. Other groups of girls can go about giving 
out the presents.” 

“I’ll bet they’ll have such a good time playing the 
game they won’t notice whether the presents are ten 
centers or fifties,” shouted Roger. “I believe we’ve 
got the right notion.” 

“We must do everything up nicely so they’ll have 
fun opening the parcels,” insisted Helen. 

“Here’s where James begins pasting again. 


io 4 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

Where’s my pastepot, Dorothy?” inquired James 
who had done wonders in making boxes to contain the 
gifts that went in the real Ship. 

“Here are all your arrangements in the corner, 
and I’ll make you some paste right off,” said Dor- 
othy, pointing out the corner of the attic where a 
table held cardboard and flowered paper and scis- 
sors. 

Unless there was some especial reason for a meet- 
ing elsewhere the Club always met in Dorothy’s at- 
tic, where the afternoon sun streamed in cheerfully 
through the low windows. There the members 
could leave their unfinished work and it would not 
be disturbed, and the place had proved to be so 
great a comfort during the autumn months that Mrs. 
Smith had had a radiator put in so that it was warm 
and snug for winter use. Electric lights had made 
it possible for them to work there occasionally dur- 
ing the evening and it was as cheerful an apartment 
as one would care to see, even though its furniture 
was made largely of boxes converted into useful ar- 
ticles by Dorothy’s inventive genius. 

“Some time during Christmas week we ought to 
cheer up the old couple by the bridge,” urged 
Roger. 

“The same people we chopped wood for?” asked 
Tom. 

“The Atwoods — yes. It gets on my nerves to 
see them sitting there so dully, every day when I 
pass by on my way to school.” 

“We certainly won’t forget them. We can do 
something that won’t make any demand on our treas- 


ELISABETH MAKES FRIENDS 105 

ury, so Tom won’t mind our adding them to our 
Christmas list.” 

“I dare say we’ll think of others before we go 
much farther. What we need to do now is to de- 
cide on things to make for the Glen Pointers,” and 
the talk went off into a discussion which proved to 
be merely a selection from what they had learned 
to do while they were making up their parcels for 
the real Christmas Ship. Now, with but a short time 
before Christmas, they chose articles that could be 
made quickly. The girls also decided on the can- 
dies that each should make to fill the boxes, and 
they made requisition on the treasury for the ma- 
terials so that they could go to work at once upon 
the lasting kinds. Before the afternoon was over 
the attic resumed once more the busy look it had 
worn for so many weeks before the sailing of the 
Jason. 

“Ethel Blue !” came a call up the attic stairs. 

Ethel Blue ran down to see what her aunt wanted, 
and came back beaming, two letters in her hand. 

“Here’s a letter from Mrs. Jackson to Aunt 
Marion saying that Katharine may come to us for 
a fortnight, and another one from Katharine to me 
telling how crazy she is to come. Isn’t it fine !” 

Ethel threw her arm over Ethel Brown’s shoulder 
and pulled her into the march that was the Mor- 
tons’ expression of great pleasure: “One, two, 
three, back; one, two, three, back,” around the attic. 

“When is she coming?” asked Roger, who had 
never seen Katharine and so was able to endure 
calmly the prospect of her visit. 


10 6 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“Two days before Christmas — that’s Wednes- 
day in the afternoon.” 

“We’ll ask grandmother to let us have the car to 
go and get her; it’s so much more fun than the 
train,” proposed Ethel Brown. 

“Um, glorious.” 

The attic rang with the Ethels’ delight — at which 
they looked back afterwards with some wonder. 


CHAPTER VIII 

THE GOOD SHIP “jASON” 

T HE Rosemont schools closed for the holidays 
at noon of the Wednesday before Christmas, 
so all the Mortons and Dorothy were free to avail 
themselves of Mrs. Emerson’s offer of her car to 
bring Katharine from Hoboken. It was a pleasant 
custom of the family to regard any guests as be- 
longing not to one or another member in particular 
but to all of them. All felt a responsibility for the 
guest’s happiness and all shared in any amusement 
that he or she might give. 

According to this custom, not the Ethels alone 
went to meet Katharine, but Helen and Roger and 
Dorothy, too. Mrs. Morton chaperoned them and 
Dicky was added for good measure. It was a sharp 
day and the Rosemont group were rosy with cold 
when they reached the station and lined themselves 
up on the platform just before the Buffalo train 
drew in. Katharine and the Jacksons’ German 
maid, Gretchen, were among the first to get off. 

“Gretchen is going to make a holiday visit, too,” 
Katharine explained when she had greeted the 
Ethels, whom she knew, and had been introduced to 
the other members of the party. 

Mrs. Morton and Roger instructed Gretchen how 
107 


io8 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


to reach Staten Island where her friends lived and 
then they got into the car and sped toward home. 

Katharine did not seem so much at ease as she 
had done when she played hostess to the Ethels at 
Fort Edward. She was accustomed to meeting 
many people, but she was an only child and being 
plunged into a big family, all chattering at once, it 
seemed to her, caused her some embarrassment. In 
an effort not to show it she was not always happy in 
her remarks. 

“Is this your car?” she asked. 

“It’s Grandmother Emerson’s,” replied Ethel 
Brown. “She lets us have it very often.” 

“I don’t care for a touring car in cold weather. 
My grandmother has a limousine.” 

“We’re glad to have a ride in any kind of car,” 
responded Ethel Blue happily. 

“Roger, get out that other rug for Katharine,” 
directed Mrs. Morton, “she’s chilly.” 

“Oh, no,” demurred Katharine, now ashamed at 
having made a remark that seemed to reflect upon 
the comfort of her friends’ automobile. “I’m used 
to a Ford, any way.” 

“I’m afraid you don’t know much about cars if 
you do come from an automobile city,” commented 
Roger dryly. “This car would make about three 
Fords — though I don’t sneeze at a Ford myself. 
I’d be mighty glad if we had one, wouldn’t you, 
Mother?” 

Mrs. Morton shook her head at him, and he sub- 
sided, humming merrily, 


THE GOOD SHIP “JASON” 109 

He took four spools and an old tin can 

And called it a Ford and the strange thing ran. 

The Ethels had not paid much attention to the 
conversation but nevertheless it had struck the 
wrong note and no one felt entirely at ease. They 
found themselves wondering whether their guest 
would find her room to her liking and they remem- 
bered uneasily that they had said “I guess she won’t 
mind” this and that when they had left some of their 
belongings in the closet. 

The Mortons’ house was not large and in order 
to accommodate a guest the Ethels moved upstairs 
into a tiny room in the attic, where they were to 
camp for the fortnight of Katharine’s stay. They 
had thought it great fun, and were more than will- 
ing to endure the discomfort of crowded quarters 
for the sake of having the long-desired visit. Now, 
however, Ethel Brown murmured to Ethel Blue as 
they went into the house, “I’m glad we had one of 
the beds taken upstairs; it will give her more space,” 
and Ethel Blue replied, “I believe we can hang our 
dancing school dresses in the east corner of the attic 
if we put a sheet around them.” 

Indeed, Ethel Blue made a point of running up- 
stairs while Katharine was speaking to Dorothy in 
the living room and removing the dresses from the 
closet. She looked around the room with new 
sight. It had seemed pleasant and bright to her in 
the morning when she and Ethel Brown had added 
some last touches to the fresh muslin equipment of 
the bureau, but now she wished that they had had 


no ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


a perfectly new bureau cover, and she was sorry 
she had not asked Mary to give the window another 
cleaning although it had been washed only a few 
days before. 

“Perhaps she won’t notice,” she murmured hope- 
fully, but in her heart of hearts she was pretty sure 
she would. 

Katharine made no comment, however, beyond 
lifted eyebrows when she noticed anything different 
from what she had been accustomed to in a house 
where there was a small family, and, in consequence, 
plenty of space. She unpacked her trunk and hung 
up her clothes with care and neatness which the 
Ethels admired. Ordinarily they would have praised 
her frankly for doing well what they sometimes failed 
to do well, but they had not yet recovered from the 
constraint that her remarks on the way home had 
thrown over them. It was not lessened when she 
mentioned that usually Gretchen did her unpacking 
for her. 

“Mary would love to unpack for us,” said Ethel 
Brown, “but if she did that we’d have to do some 
of her work, so we’d rather hang up our duds our- 
selves.” 

Katharine was greatly interested in the Club 
plans for the Glen Point orphans. She had lived in 
garrisons in the remote West and in or near large 
cities, but her experience never had placed her in a 
comparatively small town like Rosemont or Glen 
Point where people took a friendly interest in each 
other and in community institutions. She entered 
heartily into the final preparations for the imitation 


1 1 1 


THE GOOD SHIP “JASON” 

Christmas Ship and she and the girls forgot their 
mutual embarrassment in their work for some one 
else. 

Roger went to Glen Point in the morning of the 
day before Christmas to meet the other Club boys 
and build the Ship in the hall of the orphanage. 
They worked there for several hours and lunched 
with James and Margaret at the Hancocks’. The 
rest of the Mortons and Katharine took over the 
parcels in the early afternoon in the car and ar- 
ranged them on the deck as had been planned, and 
then all the young people came back together, for 
they were to have a part in the lighting of the Rose- 
mont Christmas Tree. 

The tree was a huge Norway spruce and it was 
set up in front of the high school which had a lawn 
before it large enough to hold a goodly crowd of 
observers. The choirs of all the churches had vol- 
unteered their services for the occasion. They were 
placed on a stand elevated above the crowd so that 
they could lead the singing and be heard at a dis- 
tance. 

Except for murmurs of admiration and a long- 
drawn breath of delight there was no sound from 
the throng. It was too beautiful for speech; the 
meaning was too laden with brotherly love and cheer 
for it to be mistaken. A sad-eyed girl smiled to 
herself and gazed with new hope in her face; a 
pickpocket took his hand out of his neighbor’s bag 
that had opened like magic under his practised 
touch. Babies stretched out their arms to the glit- 
ter; grown men stared silently with unaccustomed 


1 12 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


tears wetting their eyes. The school children sang 
on and on, “Oh, come all ye faithful, joyful and 
triumphant;” then “Hark, the herald angels sing, 
Glory to the new-born King;” and “It came upon 
the midnight clear.” The fresh young voices rang 
gloriously, strengthened by the more mature voices 
of the choirs. 

The stars were coming out before the first per- 
son turned away, and all through the night watchers 
of the tree’s resplendent glory were found by the 
patrolling policeman gazing, gazing, with thoughts 
of peace reflected on faces that had long been un- 
known to peace. 

It was after six when the Emerson car whirled 
the U. S. C. back to the Mortons’ for a dinner that 
had to be eaten hastily, for they were due at the 
Glen Point orphanage soon after seven so that all 
might be in order for the doors to be opened to the 
children at half past. Helen was always urging 
punctuality as Tom was commanding promptness. 

“If we were small youngsters and had had to wait 
all day for our Christmas party we’d be wild at 
having it delayed a minute longer than necessary,” 
the President insisted, and Tom added his usual ex- 
hortation, “Run the thing along briskly; don’t let it 
drag. You can ‘put over’ lots of stupid stuff by 
rushing it on gayly, and a good ‘stunt’ may be good 
for nothing if it goes slowly.” 

“Helen and Tom can’t say that they ‘never sing 
the old, old songs,’ can they?” laughed Ethel Brown. 
“The Club has never done anything yet that we 


THE GOOD SHIP “JASON” 113 

haven’t heard these same sweet strains from both of 
them.” 

“You’re very likely to hear them again — my 
chant, any way,” declared her sister firmly. 

“It won’t do us any harm,” Ethel Brown yielded 
good-naturedly. 

The boys had made the good ship Jason with 
some ingenuity. The matron had let them have a 
table, long and so old that the marks of boots upon 
it would do no harm. This was important for it 
was to be used as the forward deck. Because in 
the days of its youth it had been used in the dining 
room of the smaller children it was lower than an 
ordinary table. This made it just the right height, 
for the ship’s rail was to rise above it, and if it had 
been higher the people on the floor could not have 
seen the deck comfortably. 

At the end of the table was tied the mast — a 
broom stick with electric light wires strung with tiny 
bulbs going from its top to the deck. This elec- 
trical display was a contribution from Roger who 
had asked his grandfather to give it to him for his 
Christmas gift and had requested that he might have 
it in time for him to lend it to the Jason. It was 
run by a storage battery hidden in a box that was 
safely bestowed under the deck. Aft of the main- 
mast were two kitchen chairs placed side by side to 
give the craft the needed length. 

The outside of the boat was made by stretching 
a double length of war-gray cambric from the bow 
— two hammock stretchers fastened to the end of 


40 


1 1 4 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

the table — along the deck, past the chairs and across 
their end. The cloth was raised a trifle above the 
deck by laths nailed on to the edge of the table. 
The name, “Jason,” in black letters, was pinned 
along the bow. 

“It isn’t a striking likeness of a boat,” con- 
fessed Roger, “but any intelligent person would be 
able to guess what it was meant to be.” 

When the children and a few other people who 
had begged to be allowed to come entered the hall 
they found the ship lighted and with its deck piled 
high with wooden boxes and parcels of good size. 
The members of the U. S. C. were gathered beside 
the ship. When all had entered Helen, as presi- 
dent of the Club, mounted one of the chairs which 
represented the after part of the boat and told the 
story of the real ship Jason. 

“Children from all over the United States sent 
Christmas gifts to the European children who other- 
wise would not have any because of the war. To- 
night we are going to pretend that we are all sail- 
ing on the Jason to carry the gifts to Europe. We’ve 
all got to help — every one of us. First of all we 
want a captain. I think that boy over there near 
the door will be the captain, because he’s the tallest 
boy I see here.” 

Embarrassed but pleased the tall boy came for- 
ward and Della fastened on his arm a band marked 
CAPTAIN. Following instructions he mounted 
the chair from which Helen descended. Two under 
officers were chosen in the same way, and the Ethels 
raised them to the ranks of first and second lieuten- 


THE GOOD SHIP “JASON” 115. 

ants by the simple method of fastening on suitable 
arm bands. 

“Now we want some sailors,” cried Roger, and 
he selected ten other boys, who were all rapidly 
adorned with SAILOR bands by the U. S. C. gifts. 
The ship was about as full as she could be now, with 
her officers standing, one on the deck and the others 
on the two chairs, and the sailors manning the rail. 
Everybody was beginning to enjoy the game by this 
time, and the faces that looked out over the gray 
cambric sides of the Jason were beaming with eager- 
ness to find out what was coming next, while the 
children who had not yet been assigned to any task 
were equally curious to find out how they were to 
help. 

“Now we’re on the pier at the Bush Terminal 
at Brooklyn,” explained Tom. “Look out there; 
don’t get in the way of the ropes,” and he pushed 
the crowd back from the imaginary ropes, and whis- 
tled a shrill call on his fingers. 

“See, she’s moving! She’s starting!” cried Ethel 
Blue. “Wave your handkerchief! Wave it!” she 
directed the children near her, who fell into the 
spirit of the pretense and gave the Christmas Ship a 
noisy send-off. 

“Now we’ll all turn our backs while the ship is 
crossing the Atlantic,” directed James. 

It required only a minute for the boat to make the 
crossing, and when the onlookers turned about after 
this trip of unparalleled swiftness they were told that 
now they were not Americans any longer; they were 
English people at Devonport gathered to watch the 


n6 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


arrival of the Jason and to help unload the presents 
sent to the children of England and Belgium. 

“I want some longshoremen to help unload these 
boxes,” said Helen, “and a set of sorters and a set 
of distributors. Who’ll volunteer as longshore- 
men?” 

There was a quick response, and this group ex- 
hausted all the boys. They were designated by arm 
bands each marked LONGSHOREMAN. Then she 
called for girls for the other two detachments and 
divided them into two sections, one marked SORT- 
ERS and the other DISTRIBUTORS. 

Under Roger’s direction a chair, turned over on 
its face, made a sloping gangplank down which the 
bundles could be slid. 

“Have your lieutenants place their men around 
the deck and on each side of this plank,” he in- 
structed the captain. “Then order a few longshore- 
men to go aboard and hand the bundles from one 
to another and slide them down the plank to the 
men on the pier who will take them over to the sort- 
ers. You,” he called to the girls, “you stay at that 
side of the room and open these large parcels when 
they are brought to you, and you read what it says 
on the packages and make two piles, one of those 
marked ‘Boy’ and the other of those marked ‘Girl.’ 
Then there are bundles marked with the children’s 
names. Give them out. See that everybody has 
one package marked with his name and one package 
just marked ‘Boy’ or ‘Girl.’ ” 

The Ethels had proposed this arrangement so 


Ill 


THE GOOD SHIP “JASON” 

that all the children should feel that the distribu- 
tion of gifts had been made by chance. The par- 
cels bearing the children’s names were filled with 
candy and goodies and were all alike. 

“Didn’t I tell you they’d like foolishnesses !” she 
said to Helen in an undertone. “Look at those boys 
with jumping jacks. They love them !” 

“See those youngsters with those silly twirling 
things Tom made,” said Della. “He’s right about 
the charm of those little flat objects. They’ll twirl 
them by the hour I really believe.” 

All the gifts were of the simplest sort. There 
were the Danish twins that Ethel Blue had made 
for the real Ship — little worsted elves fastened to- 
gether by a cord; and rubber balls covered with 
crocheting to make them softer; dolls, small and in- 
expensive, but each with an outfit of clothes that 
would take off; a stuffed kitten or two; several 
baskets, each with a roll of ribbon in it. 

“They can fit them up for work baskets after- 
wards, if they want to,” said Margaret, “but I’m 
not going to suggest sewing to these youngsters who 
have to do it every day of their lives whether they 
want to or not.” 

There were various kinds of candy in boxes cov- 
ered with bright colored and flowered paper, for 
James had outdone himself in developing new past- 
ing ideas. There were cookies, too, and tiny fruit 
cakes. 

The faces of the Club members were as joyous 
as the faces of the children as they looked about 


1 1 8 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


them and saw evidences of the success of their plan. 
If they needed confirmation it was given them by the 
matron. 

“I’ve never seen them so happy,” she said. “I 
can’t thank, you enough for giving them this pleas- 
ure.” 

“It was lovely,” approved Katharine. “I’m so 
glad you let me help.” 

It was still early when the merry party reached 
home, but Mrs. Morton bundled them off to bed 
promptly. 

“You’re all made a sacrifice to Dicky’s Christmas 
habits,” she explained. “He’s been in bed for 
hours and he’s preparing to get up long before dawn, 
so we all might as well go to bed ourselves or we’ll 
be exhausted by this time to-morrow night.” 

“Hang your stocking on your outside door knob, 
Katharine,” cried the Ethels. “We have Santa 
Claus trained to look there for it in this house.” 


CHAPTER IX 


CHRISTMAS DAY 

M RS. MORTON’S prophecy was fulfilled. It 
was still black night when Dicky roused from 
his bed and sent a “Merry Christmas” ringing 
through the house. There was no response to his 
first cry, but, undaunted, he uttered a second. To 
this there came a faint “Merry Christmas” from the 
top story where the Ethels were snuggled under the 
roof, and another from Helen’s room beside his 
own. Katharine said nothing and not a word came 
from Roger, though there was a sound of heavy, 
regular breathing through his door. 

“Let’s put on our wrappers and go down stairs 
into Katharine’s room,” suggested Ethel Brown. 

“It’s lots too early. Let’s wait a while,” replied 
Ethel Blue, so they lay still for another hour in 
spite of increasing sounds of ecstasy from Dicky. 
After all they decided to follow the usual family 
custom and take their stockings into the living room 
before breakfast instead of going to Katharine’s 
room. As they passed her door they knocked on it 
and begged her to hurry so that they could all begin 
the opening at once. She said that she was up and 
would soon join them, but it proved to be fully 
three quarters of an hour before she appeared. 


120 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


All the Mortons except Dicky had waited for her 
before opening their bundles. 

“We thought you would excuse Dicky for not 
waiting; it’s rather hard on a small boy to have 
such tantalizing parcels right before him and not 
attack them,” apologized Mrs. Morton. 

Katharine looked somewhat embarrassed to find 
that she had been the cause of so long a delay but 
she offered no excuse. 

“Let’s all look at our stockings first,” said Ethel 
Brown, and every hand dived in and brought out 
candy, nuts, raisins, an apple, an orange, dates and 
figs and candy animals. 

There were gifts among the goodies, or instruc- 
tions where to find them. Roger discovered a 
pocket book that had been his desire for a long 
time, and a card that advised him to look under 
the desk in the library and see what was waiting 
for him. He dashed off in a high state of curiosity 
and came back whooping, with a typewriter in his 
arms. 

“Aren’t Grandfather and Grandmother the best 
ever!” he exclaimed rapturously, and he paid no 
farther attention to his other gifts or to those of 
the rest of the family while he hunted out a small 
table and arranged the machine for immediate ac- 
tion. 

Helen’s chief presents were a ring with a small 
pearl, from her grandmother and a set of Stevenson 
from her grandfather. The Ethels had each a tennis 
racquet and each a desk of a size suitable for their 
bedroom. 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


1 2 1 


“They’ll go one on each side of the window,” ex- 
claimed Ethel Brown, while Ethel Blue at once be- 
gan to store away in hers the supply of stationery 
that came with it. 

Katharine’s gifts were quite as numerous as the 
Mortons’, for her mother had forwarded to Mrs. 
Morton’s care all those of suitable size that came 
to Buffalo for her. She opened one after another 
books, hair ribbons, a pair of silk stockings for danc- 
ing school, a tiny silver watch on a long chain. Mr. 
and Mrs. Emerson had added to her store a racquet 
like the Ethels’. 

More numerous than those of any of the others 
were Dicky’s presents, and they were varied, indeed. 
A velocipede was his grandfather’s offering and was 
received with shouts of delight. Blocks of a new 
sort occupied him when his mother stopped his trav- 
els on three wheels. A train of cars made its way 
under Katharine’s feet and nearly threw her down, 
to her intense disgust, and a pair of roller skates 
brought Dicky himself in her way so often that she 
spoke to him more sharply than he had ever been 
spoken to in his life. He drew away and stared at 
her solemnly. 

“You’re a cross girl,” he announced after a dis- 
concerting pause, and Katharine flushed deeply at 
the accusation, realizing that it was not polite to re- 
buke your hostess’s brother and regretting her hasty 
speech. 

Katharine had been told of the Club plan to give 
only ten cent presents so she was not surprised at 
the gifts that gave the Mortons so much pleasure, 


122 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


though she could not understand why many of them 
brought forth shrieks of laughter. 

“It’s because we know all these things so well,” 
cried Helen, almost weeping with amusement over 
a pair of Danish elves which emerged from her 
stocking. “You see we’ve been making things for 
other people’s Christmas for months and there are 
certain articles that some of us can make with our 
eyes shut and one hand tied behind our backs.” 

“But those are penwiper elves,” remonstrated 
Ethel Blue. “They’re a. variation on the original 
elves.” 

Dicky had confined himself to a similar present 
for everybody. He had made woven paper stamp 
cases, all of the same size and shape. Each one 
was different in color from every other and Dicky 
was ready with his reasons for choosing this or that 
hue. Ethel Brown’s was brown and yellow because 
her eyes were brown. Ethel Blue’s was blue and 
white because her eyes were blue. Roger’s was red 
and black because those were the high school colors. 
Helen’s was pink because her room was pink and 
the stamp case must match the blotting paper on 
her desk. For a similar reason his mother’s was 
blue, but that was contrasted with straw-color be- 
cause the cushion that the Ethels had made was 
straw-color. Katharine’s was green and white be- 
cause Dicky connected her in his mind with Niagara 
Falls, which the Ethels had seen when they were 
her guests the summer before. Niagara Falls, they 
had told him, was green and it broke into splashing 
white. 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


123 


Roger’s gifts were all made from leather or brass, 
and, like Dicky, he had not strained his inventive 
powers. Blotter pads with metal or leather cor- 
ners he had made for every one. Very pretty they 
were, too, with the initials of the recipient, one on 
each corner, and a design on the fourth corner. 
The brass shone brilliantly against the bright hues 
of the blotters — pink for Helen, Blue for Ethel 
Blue and yellow for Ethel Brown. For his mother 
Roger had made white leather corners, painting a 
delicate blue cornflower on each one, and slipping 
them over a pale blue blotter. The heavy paste- 
board backs had been cut to fit the desks and it was 
clear that Roger had been in the secret of the desks 
that were to be given to the Ethels, for their blot- 
ters fitted as exactly as Helen’s and Mrs. Morton’s. 
Katharine’s blotter was of bright Christmassy red 
and the corners were dark green, the shade of a 
Christmas tree. 

“Are you good for a long walk?” Roger asked 
Katharine after breakfast. 

Katharine said she was. 

“Then help me do up these things for Grand- 
father and Grandmother and we’ll be off,” and he 
threw down a handful of red paper and green rib- 
bon and ran to get the shears. 

Roger and Helen together had given Grandfather 
Emerson a whole desk set, Roger hammering the 
metal and Helen providing and making up the pad 
and roller blotter and ink bottle. It was a hand- 
some set. The blotter was green and the Ethels 
had made a string basket out of which came the end 


124 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

of a ball of green twine, and a set of filing enve- 
lopes, neatly arranged in a portfolio of heavy green 
cardboard. 

All of the family had helped make the Chautauqua 
scrapbook that was Mrs. Emerson’s principal gift 
from her grandchildren. Helen had written the 
story of their summer at Chautauqua, Roger had 
typed it on a typewriter at school, and the others 
had chosen and pasted the pictures that illustrated 
it. Ethel Blue had added an occasional drawing of 
her own when their kodaks gave out or they were 
unable to find anything in old magazines that would 
answer their purpose, and the effect was excellent. 
Katharine looked it over with the greatest interest. 

“Here you are, all of you, going over from West- 
field to Chautauqua in the trolley,” she exclaimed, 
for she had made the same trip herself. 

“And here are the chief officers of Chautauqua 
Institution — Bishop Vincent and some of the oth- 
ers. 

“And here’s the Spelling Match — my, that Am- 
phitheatre is an enormous place !” 

“This is the hydro-aeroplane that we flew in, 
Ethel Brown and I.” 

“These are different buildings on the grounds — 
I recognize them. This is a splendid present,” com- 
plimented Katharine. 

“It was heaps of fun making it. Did you notice 
this picture of Mother’s and Grandfather’s class on 
Recognition Day? See, there’s Mother herself. 
She happened to be in the right spot when the pho- 
tographer snapped.” 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


12 5 , 

“How lucky for you ! It’s perfect. I know Mrs. 
Emerson will be awfully pleased.” 

“We hope she will. Are you infants ready?” 
and Roger swung the parcels on to his back and 
opened the door for the girls. 

“We’re going to stop at Dorothy’s, aren’t we?” 
asked Ethel Blue. 

“Certainly we are. We want to see her presents 
and to give Elisabeth hers and to say ‘Merry Christ- 
mas’ to Aunt Louise and Miss Merriam.” 

“You seem very fond of Miss Merriam,” said 
Katharine to Ethel Brown as they turned the corner 
into Church Street. 

“We are. She’s splendid. She knows just what 
to do for Elisabeth and she’s lovely any way.” 

“You act as if she belonged to the family.” 

“Why shouldn’t we?” asked Ethel in amazement. 

“Don’t you pay her for taking care of the baby?” 

“Certainly we pay her. We’d pay a doctor for 
taking care of her, too, only we happen to have two 
doctors related to the Club so they give us their 
services free. Why shouldn’t we pay her?” 

Ethel Brown was quite breathless. She could not 
entirely understand Katharine’s point of view, but 
she seemed to be hinting that Miss Merriam was 
serving in a menial capacity. The idea made loyal 
Ethel Brown, who had not a snobbish bone in her 
body, extremely angry. Service she understood — 
her father and her uncle and Katharine’s father, too, 
for that matter, were serving their country and were 
under orders. One kind of service might be less 
responsible than another kind, but that any service 


126 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


that was honest and useful could be unworthy was 
not in her creed. 

“No reason, of course,” replied Katharine, who 
saw that she had offended Ethel. “Any way, her 
work is more than a nursemaid’s work.” 

“I should say it was,” answered Ethel warmly; 
“she’s taken several years’ training to fit her for it. 
But even if she were just a nursemaid I should love 
her. I love Mary. She was Dicky’s nurse and 
Mother says she saved him from becoming a sick, 
nervous child by her wisdom and calmness. Mary’s 
skilful, too.” 

Katharine did not pursue the discussion, and Ethel 
Brown, when Miss Merriam came into the room to 
wish them a “Merry Christmas,” threw her arms 
around her neck and kissed her. 

“You’re a perfectly splendid person,” she ex- 
claimed. 

Elisabeth was at her very best this morning. 
Never before had they seen her so beaming. She 
had a special smile for every one of them, so that 
each felt that he had been singled out for favors. 
She shook hands with Roger, walked a few steps, 
clinging to the Ethels’ fingers, patted Helen’s cheek, 
rippled all over when Dicky danced before her, and 
even permitted Katharine to take her on her lap. 
This was a concession on Katharine’s part as well 
as on Elisabeth’s, for Katharine was not much in- 
terested in a stray baby. She saw, however, that 
the Mortons all were in love with the little creature 
so she did her best to be amiable toward her. 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


127 

Dorothy’s presents were examined with great in- 
terest by all the guests. 

“Many of your gifts are strangely like ours,” 
laughed Helen, and Dorothy nodded her under- 
standing of the joke. Mr. and Mrs. Emerson had 
given her a tennis racquet, her mother had fitted 
up the room into which she had moved when Miss 
Merriam came, Miss Merriam gave her a book of 
French nursery rhymes with the music, so that she 
might learn to sing them to Elisabeth. Roger’s 
manufactory had turned out a leather magazine 
cover for his aunt, a leather book cover with handles 
for Miss Merriam and a music case for Dorothy. 
The girls had made Mrs. Smith and Miss Merriam 
each a set of chintz-covered boxes of various shapes 
and sizes. 

“Father and Uncle Richard sent us all gold 
pieces,” said Helen. “Here are yours, Dorothy.” 

“What beauties !” exclaimed Dorothy. “They’re 
the new ones with the flying eagle. How he does 
stand out from the face of the coin!” 

“Mother is tremendously pleased with the Vic- 
trola,” said Roger. “So are we all of us. We’re 
as much obliged to you as she is, Aunt Louise.” 

“I hoped it would have a warm greeting,” Mrs. 
Smith answered. “I gave myself one, too.” 

“Good enough! Now we can dance at either 
house without being afraid of tiring somebody all 
to pieces whacking the piano for us.” 

Miss Merriam’s face wore an especially cheerful 
look, even for her. 


128 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“You’re all so good to me,” she cried. “I love 
all these things that you’ve made for me with your 
own fingers.” 

“We’d do more than that if we could,” answered 
Ethel Blue as they all, including Dorothy, swept 
out of the front door to take up their journey to the 
Emersons’. 

At the Emersons’ there was a renewal of greet- 
ings and “Thank yous” and laughter, and a rehears- 
ing of all the gifts that had been received. Mrs. 
Smith had sent Mrs. Emerson an unusual pair of 
richly decorated wax candles which she had found 
at an Italian candlemaker’s in New York, and Miss 
Merriam had sent her and Mrs. Morton each a tiny 
brass censer and a supply of charcoal and Japanese 
incense to make fragrant the house. 

“Mother gave us handkerchiefs all around,” said 
Roger, “and Mary baked us each a cake and the 
cook made candy enough for an army.” 

“You’re dining at your Aunt Louise’s, dear?” 

“We’re going right from here to carry some 
bundles for Mother and then to church, and then to 
Aunt Louise’s for an early dinner. After dinner we 
are to call on the old ladies at the Home for a half 
hour and then we go back to a tree for Dicky — just 
a little shiny one; we’ve had all our presents. After 
supper the thing we’re going to do is a secret.” 

“That sounds like a program that will keep you 
busy while it lasts. They’re not tiring you out, I 
hope?” Mr. Emerson asked Katharine, who listened 
to Roger’s list without displaying much enthusiasm. 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


129 


“I’m enjoying it all very much,” responded Kath- 
arine politely, but not in a tone that carried convic- 
tion. 

“How would it please you if the car took you back 
and helped you carry those parcels for your mother?” 

There was a general whoop of satisfaction. 

“Your grandmother and I are going to church, 
but we won’t mind starting earlier than we usually 
do.” 

“Which means right now, I should say,” said 
Roger, looking at his watch. 

At the Mortons’ the car added Mrs. Morton and 
Dicky to its occupants and several large baskets con- 
taining Christmas dinners for people in whom the 
Mortons had an interest. The young Mortons all 
had had a hand in packing these baskets and in add- 
ing a touch of holly and red ribbon at the top to give 
them a holiday appearance. 

“This first one is for old Mrs. Jameson,” Mrs. 
Morton explained to her mother. “Everything in it 
is already cooked because she is almost blind and 
cooking is harder for her than it is for most people. 
There is a roast chicken and the vegetables are all 
done and put in covered bowls packed around with 
excelsior so that their heat won’t be lost.” 

“Like a fireless cooker.” 

“The Ethels and Dorothy made enough individual 
fruit cakes for all our baskets, and we’ve put in hard 
pudding sauce so that they can be eaten as puddings 
instead of cakes.” 

“The girls have made candies and cookies for 


41 


130 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

everybody. That basket for the Flynns has enough 
cookies for eight children besides the father and 
mother.” 

“If their appetites are like Roger’s there must be a 
good many dozen cookies stowed away there.” 

“You can see it’s the largest of all,” laughed Mrs. 
Morton. 

Roger played Santa Claus at each house and his 
merry face and pleasant jokes brought smiles to 
faces that did not look happy when their owners 
opened their doors. The Flynns’ was the last stop 
and everybody in the car laughed when all the Flynns 
who could walk, and that meant nine of them, fairly 
boiled out of the door to receive the visitor. Roger 
jumped the small fry and joked with the larger ones, 
and left them all in a high state of excitement. 

Roger and Dicky both sang in the choir so they 
hurried around to the side of the church while the 
others entered the front door into a building made 
lovely by the thicket of greenery that grew about 
every pillar. Holly berries gleamed here and there 
and garlands of evergreen ran along the backs of the 
pews and looped themselves at the ends. Helen had 
been on the decoration committee and she was espe- 
cially pleased at the admiration expressed in the looks 
of the grown-up people. 

“ ‘The groves were God’s first temple,’ ” quoted 
Mrs. Emerson softly. 

It was a beautiful service. The fresh voices of 
the boy choir soared above the forest branches in 
the hymns that told the joy of the day, and the ser- 
mon impressed on the listeners that peace on earth 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


131 

and good will to men had come through the follow- 
ing of the teachings of Christ and would come again, 
since love is strong and must prevail, even though at 
the moment peace and brotherly love seemed to have 
been swept from the earth. 

As the girls listened to the story of the birth of the 
Christ Child and thought of the sweetness that was 
coming into the lives of all those who were helping 
Elisabeth to play her little part in the world they 
realized as never before that there is a mighty 
strength in the tiny hands of babes and that their 
weak grasp, so feeble actually, represents Love, 
seemingly powerless, yet in reality the mightiest force 
that man knows. 

Everybody in the church had brought a present 
for the Sunday School Christmas tree. They were 
marked “girl” or “boy” or “either” and huge 
hampers in the vestibule received them as the congre^ 
gation passed out. 

Again the Ethels were impressed by the power of 
a child’s weakness when they reached Dorothy’s after 
church and found there the Misses Clark who had 
stopped in on their way home from church to bring 
a gift for the baby. 

“I never expected to see a smile on the faces of 
those old ladies,” ejaculated Roger when they had 
gone. “They don’t look at me like that when I come 
up after shaking the furnace.” 

“Perhaps you’ll shine by-and-bye in the glory re- 
flected from Elisabeth, since you’re a sort of uncle,” 
suggested his Aunt Louise, laughing. 

It was a very merry party that gathered around 


132 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

the Smiths’ table, the largest dinner party that Dor- 
othy and her mother had given since they came to 
Rosemont to live after they had met their unknown 
Morton relatives at Chautauqua the summer before. 
To Mrs. Smith it gave the greatest happiness to see 
the children of her brothers sitting at her table and 
to know that her sister-in-law was her very dear 
friend as well as her relative by marriage. 

The only regret that they felt was the absence of 
Captain and Lieutenant Morton. Captain Morton 
had taken a furlough in the summer when he had 
come across a clue that led him to Chautauqua and 
the finding of Dorothy and her mother, his long lost 
sister, so he was unwilling to ask for another even 
when General Funston and his troops were sent north 
from Mexico in the middle of November. Lieuten- 
ant Morton was still detained in the harbor of Vera 
Cruz with the increasing complications in Mexican 
affairs making it entirely uncertain when the Ameri- 
can ships could be withdrawn. They were all ac- 
customed to these absences made necessary by army 
and navy service, but custom never made them less 
sorry for the necessity. 

The dining room of Mrs. Smith’s cottage was not 
large enough to hold so large a party, so another 
table was laid in the sitting room which opened out of 
it. In the dining room were Mrs. Smith, Mr. and 
Mrs. Emerson, Mrs. Morton, Roger and Helen. 
Dorothy presided at the other table and around it sat 
the Ethels, Katharine and Miss Merriam. The 
tables were laid with shining china and glass and a 
small Father Christmas, carrying a pack full of 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


133 


candy on his back stood beside each plate. In the 
center of the table was a miniature house whose 
chimney was full of Santa Claus. Busy as he was he 
still was able to hold a trail of green vine which ex- 
tended from his hand to each place, where it was 
harnessed to a reindeer. 

There was goose for those who liked goose, and 
turkey for those who preferred turkey, and apple 
sauce and cranberry sauce to accompany the respec- 
tive birds, and lots of other good things. Susan, the 
Mortons’ cook, was helping Dorothy’s cook in the 
kitchen, and Mary and Mrs. Emerson’s waitress 
waited on the tables. 

“These are the days of co-operation,” laughed 
Mrs. Smith. 

“That’s what the United Service Club is trying to 
practice,” said Dorothy, “so Mother and I are quite 
willing to adopt it here at home !” 

After dinner they all snapped costume crackers 
and adorned themselves with the caps that they 
discovered inside them, and they set the new Vic- 
trola going and danced the butterfly dance that they 
had learned at Chautauqua and had given at their 
entertainment for the Christmas Ship. Dusk was 
coming on when the Ethels said that they must go 
to the Old Ladies’ Home or they would have to 
run all the way. Grandfather Emerson offered 
to whirl all of them over in the car, and they were 
glad to accept the offer. 

They stopped at home to get the boxes of candy 
which they had prepared. It was while they were 
running up stairs to gather them together that Kath- 


i 3 4 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

arine asked Ethel Blue if Mary might press a dress 
for her. 

“I want to wear it this evening,” she said. 

Ethel Blue gasped. Mary had not yet come back 
from Mrs. Smith’s where she had served dinner 
for the large party and was still occupied in clear- 
ing up after it. Supper at home was yet to come. 
Mrs. Morton had always urged upon the girls to 
be very careful about asking to have extra services 
rendered at inconvenient hours, and a more inconven- 
ient time than this hardly could have been selected. 

“Why, I don’t know,” Ethel Blue hesitated. 

“Oh, if you don’t care to have her — ” replied 
Katharine stiffly. 

“It isn’t that,” returned Ethel miserably. “Mary’s 
always willing to do things for us, but you see she’s 
had a hard day and it isn’t over yet and she won’t 
have any holiday at all if she has to do this.” 

“Very well,” returned Katharine in a tone that 
made Ethel feel that her friend considered that she 
was being discourteous to her guest. “I can find 
something else to wear this evening, I suppose.” 

She looked so like a martyr that Ethel was most 
unhappy. 

“If you’ll let me try it, I can use the stove in our 
own little kitchen,” she offered, referring to the 
small room where Mrs. Morton allowed the girls 
to cook so that they should not be in the way of the 
servants. 

“No, indeed, I could not think of letting you,” 
responded Katharine. 

“I don’t know that I could do it. I never have 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


I 35, 

pressed anything nice — but I’d like to try if you’ll 
trust me.” 

“No, indeed,” repeated Katharine, and the girls 
entered the automobile each in a state of mental 
discomfort, Katharine because she felt that she was 
not being treated with proper consideration, and 
Ethel Blue because she had been obliged to refuse 
the request of a friend and guest. The ride to the 
Home was uncomfortably silent. On Roger’s part 
the cause was turkey, but the girls were quiet for 
other reasons. 

The visit to the old ladies was not long. They 
distributed their packages and wished everybody a 
“Merry Christmas” and shook hands with their es- 
pecial favorites and ran back to the car. 

All the members of the Service Club were due at 
supper at the Mortons’, and the family reached 
home not long before their guests whose number in- 
cluded not only the Hancocks and Tom and Della 
but Miss Merriam and Edward Watkins. 

“I think the baby thrives much better when I look 
in on her frequently,” Dr. Watkins said gravely 
to Mrs. Morton, and she replied with equal gravity, 
though her eyes were twinkling, that she thought it 
was very necessary that he should keep the run of 
Elisabeth’s condition. 

The supper was not really a party meal. It 
merely served as a gathering place for the U. S. C. 
before they went to the Christmas tree at the 
church. It also served as a background for Dicky’s 
little shining tree. This small tree had been a part 
of Dicky’s Christmas ever since he had had a Christ- 


1 36 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

mas, and to him it was quite as important as his din- 
ner, although there never were any presents on it. 

It stood now on a small table at the side of the 
dining room. It was lighted by means of the stor- 
age battery and the strings of tiny electric lights 
that had been used for the Christmas Ship at the 
Glen Point orphanage. There were all sorts of 
balls and tinsel wreaths and tiny, glistening cords. 
It glowed merrily while the supper went on, Dicky, 
at intervals of five minutes, calling everybody’s at- 
tention to its beauties. There were favors at each 
plate, each a joke of some sort on the person who 
received it. Every one held up his toy for the rest 
to see and each provoked a peal of laughter. 

“I’m jealous of Dicky,” Dr. Watkins murmured 
to Miss Merriam beside whom he was sitting. 

“Why?” 

“Because you just called him a ‘dear duck’ when 
he gave you a bit of candy, and you haven’t even 
said ‘Thank you’ to me.” 

“For what?” 

“For the books I sent you.” 

“Books?” 

“The copies of Bernhardi and Cramb. You said 
the other day you had heard that they were the most 
illuminating books on the war that had yet been 
published.” 

“Oh! Did you send me those?” 

“Yes; I gave myself that pleasure.” 

“There was no card.” 

“I gave the bookstore man my card to put in, 
but I believe there’s some Post Office regulation 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


i3 7 

about enclosing cards so that must be the reason for 
its absence if there wasn’t one in the parcel.” 

“I didn’t think of you as having sent them. I 
thought it was some one else, to tell the truth,” con- 
fessed Miss Merriam. “It was kind of you.” 

“I suppose you couldn’t thank me the way you 
did Dicky.” 

“Not very well,” laughed Gertrude; “but I do 
appreciate your remembering that I wanted to read 
them.” 

“I’m grateful for small favors,” answered the 
doctor, and the conversation went off to subjects 
suggested by the topics of the books. 

The church tree was large and handsome and 
brilliantly lighted. The Sunday School gathered be- 
fore the curtain that concealed it and sang Christ- 
mas carols with vigor. When the curtain was drawn 
an “O-oh” of satisfaction greeted the shining lights. 
Mr. Wheeler, the principal of the high school, was 
also superintendent of the Sunday School, and as 
he was short and not thin he made a Santa Claus 
quite according to tradition. The parcels that had 
been handed in at the morning service had been ex- 
amined carefully and marked so that they should 
be given out to the best advantage. Warm gar- 
ments and toys that would not be at the command 
of poor people went to the children who would not 
otherwise have had them, while the Mortons and 
their friends received and were entirely content with 
pretty boxes of candy. 

There were more carols and then the U. S. C. 
helped the younger children play games until nine 


138 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

o’clock struck and sent them home to beds that, for 
once, they were glad to fit themselves into. Dicky 
was among those who went to bed, but the rest of 
the Club started out on the ending of the day’s 
festivities that they had kept secret. Ethel Brown 
could not resist whispering it into her grandmother’s 
ear. 

“Pretty soon after you get home,” she said, 
“you’ll hear the waits singing to you.” 

“The waits? Christmas waits?” repeated Mrs. 
Emerson. “How delightful! I didn’t know Rose- 
mont ever had waits.” 

“Rosemont never had a United Service Club be- 
fore,” laughed Ethel. 

“Here, child, I believe you’re telling our secrets,” 
accused Roger. 

“I am,” confessed Ethel, “but she’s going to sit up 
for us and she’ll give us some eggnog, so it was lucky 
I told her.” 

“Perhaps it was,” admitted her brother. “That’s 
the last place we shall go to and we’ll be pretty tired 
and hungry and cold by that time.” 

“What are waits?” inquired Katharine. “I 
never heard of them.” 

“It used to be the custom in England for people 
to go about singing Christmas hymns and carols,” 
explained Mrs. Morton. “Originally they were 
watchmen who played and sang to show that they 
were on duty. Later on the name was given to 
wandering musicians, especially those who went about 
at Christmas.” 

“We’ve learned some very old carols,” said Helen. 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


139 


“Aunt Louise is quite a musician, you know, and she 
hunted them up and drilled us in them, so we have 
a pretty good collection, counting the usual ones that 
v r e sing at Sunday School.” 

“Put on your thick coat, Katharine,” called Ethel 
Blue, “and your heavy boots.” 

“Are we going to walk?” 

“Yes, indeed, that’s part of the fun,” replied Ethel 
Brown. 

Katharine did not look as if she agreed with her, 
but she dressed herself warmly, and joined the party. 
Her sulky expression cast a damper on them all for 
a time, but it was soon forgotten, and, indeed, Kath- 
arine herself forgot that she felt rather abused at 
being obliged to tramp about Rosemont when prob- 
ably a word would have put Mr. Emerson’s car at 
their service. 

The first stopping place was just around the cor- 
ner from the Mortons’. Mrs. Smith had stayed at 
home with Elisabeth so that Miss Merriam and the 
maid might both go out, and the Club sang their 
very best to thank her for teaching them the new- 
old carols and to show their appreciation of her 
kindness. She pulled aside the curtain and waved 
at them her hand and the sock that she was knit- 
ting. 

“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” Dr. Watkins 
asked Gertrude Merriam with whom he was walking 
as they left the house. 

“Inexpressibly happy! They’re all so lovely to 
me I should be a wretch if I wasn’t happy. And 
Mrs. Smith is consideration itself, as you see by her 


140 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

denying herself the fun of this evening so that I may 
enjoy it instead.” 

“I don’t see how she could help it,” Edward re- 
turned heatedly. “I’d make — anybody would make 
you happy if he had the chance.” 

“That’s what I always tell her,” said Ethel Blue, 
joining them. “I don’t know which I love more, 
Miss Gertrude or Ayleesabet,” and she gave Miss 
Merriam’s arm a squeeze. 

“I think I shouldn’t be in any doubt,” replied the 
doctor, making a strange noise that sounded as if 
he had swallowed something that almost choked him. 
Miss Merriam began to talk hastily about the car- 
ols, and to ask if they were going to sing for the 
Misses Clark. 

“We’re right here now,” said Ethel Blue, and as 
Dorothy struck the pitch softly she joined her voice 
to the others who grouped themselves about the 
gate. “God rest ye, merry gentlemen, let nothing 
you dismay,” they sang cheerfully, and followed it by 
others equally quaint in music and words. This time 
there was not merely a cold eye peering suspiciously 
at a corner of the curtain as had been the case on 
Hallowe’en. The curtain of the sitting room flew 
to its highest and both the sisters appeared at the 
window beckoning the singers. They laughed and 
made gestures of refusal, and then the door opened 
and the older Miss Clark ran down the path bring- 
ing a plate heaped high with small cakes. 

“If you won’t come in you must fill your pockets 
with these,” she insisted. “Where did you get those 
beautiful old songs? They’re so unusual, so charm- 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


141 


ing,” she continued as she pressed among them urg- 
ing the acceptance of her cakes, still warm from the 
oven. 

“You’re the nicest young people we’ve known for 
a long time,” she cried as they went off — “if you’ll 
pardon my telling you so so brusquely.” 

“She has made your acquaintance, I see,” re- 
marked Dr. Watson to Miss Merriam. 

“Yes, she has,” Dorothy answered for Miss Mer- 
riam. “One or the other of the Misses Clark comes 
to the house almost every day to see Elisabeth and 
of course they see Miss Gertrude then.” 

“You see, I’m learning the community opinion of 
you,” teased the doctor, while Gertrude turned away 
her laughing face that was blushing as well. 

“Those cakes may injure our voices,” suggested 
Tom, whose voice was so hoarse that its only value 
to a chorus was the effect of weight and background 
it gave in the open air. 

“I’ll run the risk with my superb tenor,” James 
assured him bravely. 

They all were of the same opinion, for by the 
time they reached the old couple by the bridge there 
was not a cake left among them. Here again they 
sang old songs and new and again they were re- 
warded by waving hands from the rheumatic old 
people who hobbled to the window to see who it 
was who had remembered them. The door opened 
a crack. 

“I told Mother it was you,” called out the creak- 
ing voice of the old man. “God bless you !” 

“Now, then, for the last stretch of it,” cried Helen. 


142 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“On to Grandmother’s, There we can get warm 
and she’ll send us home.” 

“Good, my tiny feet are weary,” admitted Della. 

“Mine, too,” said Katharine, though in quite a 
different tone. 

Then the automobile came to the door and they 
all climbed in. The chauffeur was a young man who 
enjoyed the chatter of the Club almost as much as 
they did themselves and he was very willing to take 
Roger’s suggestion that they drive the Hancocks 
home to Glen Point instead of merely taking them 
to the trolley. 

“Why, aren’t we near enough for that?” groaned 
Tom. 

“You for the railroad station,” commanded Roger. 
“You’ll just make the last train into New York.” 

As he got out of the ‘machine Dr. Watkins shook 
hands with Miss Merriam. 

“You were so good to let me come,” he said in a 
low tone. 

“Of course we like to have you come. You’re al- 
most a Club member, you know,” Ethel Brown an- 
swered for her. “Come whenever you want to.” 

“May I?” asked Edward; but he was looking at 
Gertrude and not at Ethel. 

“You’re always gladly welcomed — by the young 
people,” murmured Gertrude, smiling, and the doc- 
tor had to content himself with that reply. 


CHAPTER X 

NEW YEAR’S EYE 

44 TT THERE is Katharine?” asked Mrs. Mor- 

V V ton of the Ethels as Mary announced lunch- 
eon on the day before New Year’s. 

“She went over to Dorothy’s. Shall I call her?” 

“Give her a minute or two. She knows the lunch- 
eon hour,” replied Katharine’s hostess. 

But a minute or two and more passed and no 
Katharine appeared. 

“She must be lunching with Dorothy,” suggested 
Ethel Blue. 

“I’m sure Dorothy would have telephoned to ask 
if we had any plans that would interfere.” 

“It’s twenty minutes past the hour; you’d better 
call and see if she’s still there,” said Mrs. Morton, 
“and we may as well sit down.” 

Helen was still at the telephone and the family 
was seated when Katharine come in. 

“You didn’t wait for me,” she remarked with ap- 
parent surprise. 

“Of course you didn’t realize that the luncheon 
hour had struck,” Mrs. Morton apologized for her. 
“Helen is calling Dorothy now to inquire about 
you.” 

Katharine made no reply and sat down with the 
143 


i 4 4 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


injured air that she was in the habit of wearing 
when she thought that not sufficient deference had 
been paid her. She offered no apology or explana- 
tion and seemed to think, if any conclusion could 
be drawn from her manner, that she had a grievance 
instead of Mrs. Morton, whose family arrangements 
were continually being upset by her guest’s dilatori- 
ness and lack of consideration. The visit which had 
been looked forward to with such delight was not 
proving successful. For themselves the Ethels did 
not mind occasional delays, but they knew that all 
such matters interfered with the smooth running of 
the house, and they could not help wondering that 
Katharine should seem to think that her hostess 
should rearrange the daily routine to suit her. 

The evening meal was to be supper and not din- 
ner and it was to be especially early because it was 
to be cooked entirely by the young people. The 
Hancocks and the Watkinses were at the Mortons’ 
by five o’clock. Dr. Watkins came out, too, by spe- 
cial invitation, but he asked if he might be per- 
mitted to pay a visit to Elisabeth while the rest were 
preparing the meal, in view of the fact that he was 
not skilled as a cook, and felt himself to be too 
old to learn in one lesson. He was allowed to go 
with strict injunctions to be back at half past six and 
to bring Miss Merriam with him. 

The Ethels had planned beforehand what they 
were going to have for supper and the part that 
each was to take in the preparations. 

The first course was to be creamed oysters on toast. 
Tom was stationed at a table with a loaf of bread 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


i45 


and a sharp knife and directed to cut slices a third of 
an inch thick and to toast them on the small stove. 
Roger’s duty was to wash a small bunch of celery 
thoroughly, to cut it into pieces about an inch long 
and to boil it until it was tender. Ethel Blue washed 
the oysters and placed the salt, pepper, celery salt, 
paprika and a nutmeg with the grater where she 
could lay her hand on them easily when she wanted 
them. 

“Why the nutmeg?” asked Margaret. 

“Just the tiniest dash of nutmeg gives oysters in 
cream a delicious flavor — but only a dash.” 

“I should say so !” exclaimed Margaret skepti- 
cally, though she afterwards admitted that the nut- 
meg gave the flavor she had always liked in the 
creamed oysters that she had eaten away from home. 

“Thanks to the Mortons’ chef ” said Ethel with 
a flourish. 

Ethel Blue made the white sauce that was to go 
with the oysters. She made it very thick because 
the moisture from the oysters would thin it. Usu- 
ally she first melted three tablespoonsful of butter; 
into that she rubbed two-thirds of a cup of flour, 
stirring it all the time to keep it smooth. She con- 
tinued stirring while she poured on very slowly 
a pint of milk. An eighth of a teaspoon of salt, a 
shake of the pepper cruet and a gentle cooking for 
five minutes completed the process. This receipt 
gave a liberal amount for a pint of oysters. To- 
night, because she had six pints of oysters, she had 
to do some multiplication. She did not multiply by 
six, however, for she had grown wise in the ways 
42 


1 46 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

of oyster juice, which will thin the cream sauce sur- 
prisingly. She multiplied by five, and when Ethel 
Brown put the oysters and the celery and the cream 
together, dashed them with celery salt, gave two or 
three knowing grates to the nutmeg, and cooked it all 
until the oysters puffed with vanity at their own ex- 
cellence, she found the sauce to be of just the right 
thickness. 

This dish was covered and set over a pan of 
boiling water so that it might be smooth and hot 
when it was wanted. 

Meanwhile Margaret had set Roger to work 
washing and cutting another small bunch of celery. 

“Celery is said to be soothing to the nerves,” she 
remarked. “This piece of work will do you good.” 

“If it’s good for old Roger’s nerve keep him at 
it all the evening,” implored James, severely. 

“Don’t cut it too fine,” Margaret directed. “You 
want to know what it is you’re eating, and not con- 
fuse it with hash of some sort.” 

“That’s why I like Helen’s chicken salad,” com- 
mented Roger. “She makes it with chunks of real 
chicken in it. When young Ethel Brown there 
makes it, she has an idea that the finer the pieces 
are the better the result. I don’t agree with her.” 

“Helen and Margaret are making it this evening 
so you’ll have it the way you like it,” responded 
Ethel Brown, somewhat nettled. 

“When did you find time to cook this chick?” 
asked Margaret. 

“I did it in the fireless cooker, my child. It cooked 
itself.” 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


147 


“I must learn about the fireless cooker. It sounds 
magical. What do you mean by ‘it cooked itself’?” 

“I mean that I popped the chicken into boiling 
water just as if I were going to boil it on the stove 
for an hour and a half.” 

“When was this?” 

“This was last night. I might have done it early 
this morning, only I knew I had to go over to Grand- 
mother’s to-day so I got it out of the way last even- 
ing.” 

“How long did you let it boil?” 

“About half an hour. Then I put it into the fire- 
less and there it has been ever since. I hope it isn’t 
too much done.” 

“Too much done when it hasn’t been near the fire 
for nearly twenty-four hours ! You’ll be saying next 
it will be hot !” 

“It probably will be warm. Yes, it is,” Helen 
continued triumphantly as she took the kettle out of 
its nest and the chicken out of the kettle. 

“Well, did you ever see the beat of that!” ejacu- 
lated Margaret inelegantly. “Now while we’re cut- 
ting this up tell me just how this cooker is made.” 

“I want to know, too,” said Katharine. “I’ve 
often seen them mentioned in the papers.” 

“Ours is very simple. The Ethels and I made it 
ourselves for our little kitchen. Mother has a real 
one for Susan, but ours does just as good work, as 
far as I can see, although it doesn’t look quite so 
fine.” 

“I see you have a box for the ouside.” 

“Any box that’s eighteen inches or two feet high 


i 4 8 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

will do. Fill it with excelsior and push down into 
it a kettle that has a tightly fitting cover. Make an 
excelsior pillow that will fit the box.” 

“What’s the idea of that?” 

“The idea of the whole thing is slow cooking by 
steam. This chicken, for instance, was boiling mer- 
rily when I took him off the stove. I didn’t put him 
into another kettle, and so lose any of that heat. On 
the contrary I put the cover on the kettle before I 
took it from the fire, and I could hear it sizzling 
when I fitted it into its excelsior nest and put the ex- 
celsior pillow over it so that the heat should all be 
kept in and none dissipated.” 

“Sir Chick has been stewing in his own steam, 
then, all night.” 

“Exactly; and as you see he’s perfectly tender.” 

“It’s wonderful how he has kept warm after all 
these hours.” 

“If I had been going to serve him hot I should 
have put him on the stove again long enough to heat 
him up, but only for a few minutes.” 

“That’s a big saving of fuel, isn’t it? You saved 
from half an hour to an hour of gas.” 

“It’s perfectly fine for saving on things that re- 
quire long cooking like cereals and soup meats and 
beans. You give your breakfast cereal, for instance, 
a start of about fifteen minutes on the stove at night 
and then put it in the cooker and in the morning it’s 
done. A quarter of an hour is all any vegetables 
need, and half an hour for a stew or soup meat or a 
piece of tough meat that needs to be cooked slowly. 
With that start and hours of simmering inside the 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


149 

fireless you can save fuel and convert the most har- 
dened old rooster into something delicious.” 

“What you do is to substitute time of cooking for 
intensity of heat.” 

“That’s the phrase that Miss Dawson, the teacher 
of domestic science in the Rosemont schools, uses. 
‘Substitute time for intensity’ she’s always saying.” 

“He’s all cut up now. Where’s Roger’s celery?” 
Margaret went on as she took the celery from Roger 
and began mixing it with the chicken. 

“Put it in the refrigerator when it’s all mixed,” 
directed Helen. “Who’s going to make the mayon- 
naise?” 

“Let me help,” begged James. “I’ve got the 
steadiest hand in the crowd. 

“Not an April shower?” 

“Nor a November gale. Watch me.” 

Dorothy had gathered together the ingredients 
for the dressing and was multiplying her usual re- 
ceipt which was not enough for so large a party. 
Ordinarily she took the yolk of an egg, added half 
a teaspoonful each of sugar, salt and mustard, and 
a dash of Cayenne pepper, two tablespoonsful of 
vinegar and an equal amount of lemon juice. These 
she beat together with an egg beater, adding at the 
same time one cup of olive oil, poured in drop by 
drop, until the mixture was thick. Except for the 
larger amounts she followed the same method now, 
James pouring in the oil in the most approved fash- 
ion while she beat the dressing. When it was done 
it went to keep the chicken company in the refrigera- 
tor, except for a small quantity which was mixed at 


150 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

once with the chicken and celery so that every part 
of the salad might be saturated with the flavor of 
the mayonnaise. A few minutes before serving 
Helen mixed almost all the remainder with the salad 
and heaped it in a deep bowl lined with crisp lettuce 
leaves. On top she laid a last choice spoonful of 
mayonnaise and garnished the whole with tiny slices 
of crimson beet, boiled capers and stoned olives. 

Tom’s toast, on which the creamed oysters were 
to be served, was bread enough for that course, but 
to go with the salad Della made some delicious little 
drop biscuits. 

“They’re ridiculously easy,” she said to Ethel Blue. 
“When Tom and I go off on a day’s trip in the sum- 
mer here’s the way I do them — and there’s enough 
for Edward if he comes too. Of course I’ll have to 
make more to-night, but I always remember one set 
of quantities and then add to or subtract from those. 
I sift together two cups of flour, and two teaspoons- 
ful of baking powder, and half a teaspoonful of 
salt. Into that I chop four tablespoonsful of lard. 
Then I pour in a scant cupful of milk — enough 
to make a dough that will drop from the spoon — so 
— on to hot muffin tins. About ten minutes in a hot 
oven will teach these fellows their duty,” and Della, 
who had been working with flying fingers as she 
talked, popped the pans into the oven and rose to 
take note of the time by the kitchen clock. 

“Dicky, I must insist on your leaving me enough 
toast to serve as the support of a single oyster for 
your mother’s repast,” Tom was heard to murmur. 

A gurgling sound emanated from Dicky. 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


151 

“Poor old Tom, he’s hard worked if he’s trying 
to keep Dicky filled up and make anything of an 
advance on what the girls need for their oysters,” 
Roger remarked to James, and strolled into the 
small kitchen to find out the status of affairs. 

“I’ve lost count,” confessed Tom, “but I thought 
they couldn’t hurt him and, in fact, they might fill 
the storage warehouse so that there wouldn’t be so 
much of a demand for more harmful viands later.” 

“Great head,” commented Roger sagely. “Have 
another, Richard, my son.” 

“The Ethels made the dessert this afternoon,” 
Helen informed Margaret. “That is, they cut up 
the oranges and stoned the Malaga grapes and sug- 
ared them and set them to chill. If you’ll scrape 
and cut the bananas we can put in those little round 
slices at the last minute so they won’t turn brown, 
and then we can serve the fruit mixture in these 
sherbet glasses and pile whipped cream on top.” 

“Why scrape them?” asked Katharine. 

“When you pull back the skin of the banana do 
you see how fuzzy the flesh of the fruit looks? 
That’s what makes the banana indigestible, the doc- 
tors say. If that is scraped off people can eat them 
who can’t eat them in their natural state.” 

“Queer enough, I must say,” murmured Katharine, 
examining the fruit in her hand so closely that Mar- 
garet had cut almost enough for all the glasses be- 
fore she began. 

When aprons had been taken off and the guests 
were all seated at the table the supper went swim- 
mingly. The oysters were delicious, the salad suffi- 


152 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

ciently “chunky” to please Roger, the biscuits as light 
as a feather and the fruit melange as good to look at 
as if it was to eat. 

The table decorations hinted at the New Year 
that was upon them. High in a belfry made of 
small sticks piled on each other criss-cross hung a 
small bell. Silver cords ran from it to each place so 
that every guest might in turn “Ring out the old, ring 
in the new.” Beside the tower on one side stood the 
Old Year bending with the weight of his twelve- 
month of experience; on the other side was the fresh 
New Year, too young to know experience. Both 
were dolls dressed by Dorothy and Ethel Blue. 

“I move you, Madam President,” said Tom when 
the meal was nearly over, “that we extend a vote of 
thanks to the cooks for this delicious nourishment.” 

“I was just on the point of making that motion,” 
laughed Edward Watkins. 

“And I of seconding it,” cried Miss Merriam. 
“It would come more appropriately from us.” 

“You were far too slow,” retorted Tom. “I 
couldn’t wait for you.” 

“As the president was one of the cooks she ought 
to place some one else in the chair to put a motion 
complimentary in part to herself, but as the maker 
of the motion and the seconder were also cooks we’re 
all in the same box and I don’t believe it’s neces- 
sary. All in favor say ‘Aye.’ ” 

A shout of “Ayes” followed. 

“Contrary minded.” 

Silence. 

“Madam President.” 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


153 


“Mrs. Morton has the floor.” 

“I don’t want to seem inhospitable, but if you’re 
going to reach the Atwoods’ on time you’d better be 
starting.” 

There was a general scattering and a donning of 
outer garments. The boys picked up the bags and 
the Club started for the bridge, Dr. Watkins and 
Miss Merriam going with them. 

When the Ethels had called on Mrs. Atwood and 
had asked her if the Club might visit her on New 
Year’s Eve the old lady had been not only surprised 
but somewhat alarmed. She grew more cordial, 
however, when Ethel Brown explained it to her. 

“Would you mind our asking some of our 
friends?” 

“Not at all. We’d be glad to do the few small 
things that we’ve planned for just as many people as 
you can get in here.” 

“That isn’t many,” replied Mrs. Atwood, looking 
about her sitting room. “But there’s one of my 
neighbors hardly ever gets to the stores or to a 
movie show, and I’d love to ask her in; and there’s 
another one is just getting up from a sickness.” 

So the room was quite filled with guests when 
the Club members arrived. 

“That’s the boy that hung my gate for me last 
year the day after Hallowe’en,” whispered one old 
woman as Roger made his way through the room, 
and several of them said, “Those are the young folks 
that went round after the regular Hallowe’en party 
this year and put back the signs and things the other 
people had pulled down.” 


i 5 4 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

The audience was so much larger than the Club 
had expected that Helen, as president, felt called 
upon to make a short explanation. 

“We’re very glad to see you here,” she said, “but 
we don’t want you to expect anything elaborate from 
us. We’ve just come to entertain our friends for a 
short time in a simple way. So please be kind to 
us.” 

Helen was wearing a pale pink dress that was ex- 
tremely becoming, and her cheeks were flushed when 
she realized that these people had seen or heard of 
their more; pretentious undertakings and might be 
expecting something similar from them now. 

There was a reassuring nodding all over the room, 
and then the young people began their performance. 
Edward Watkins first played on the violin, giving 
some familiar airs with such spirit that toes went 
tapping as he drew his bow back and forth. 

Dorothy followed him with Kipling’s “I Keep Six 
Honest Serving Men.” The music was Edward 
German’s, and Helen played the accompaniment on 
Mrs. Atwood’s little organ. The introduction was 
spirited and then Dorothy sang softly. 

Dicky’s turn came next on the program. He was 
introduced as the Honorary Member of the United 
Service Club, and the name of the poem that he was 
to recite was given as “Russian and Turk.” 

“We don’t know who wrote these verses,” Helen 
explained. 

Dicky was helped to the top of a box which served 
as a stage and bobbed his bobbed hair at the audi- 
ence by way of a bow. Every S he pronounced TH, 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


i55 

which added to the pleasure of the hearers of the 
following lines : 

There was a Russian came over the sea, 

Just when the war was growing hot; 

And his name it was Tjalikavakaree — 
Karindobrolikanahudarot — 

Shibkadirova — 

Ivarditztova 

Sanilik 

Danevik 

Varagobhot. 

Dicky rattled off these names and two other simi- 
lar stanzas with astonishing glibness to the amaze- 
ment of his hearers. His first public appearance 
with the Club was undeniably a success. 

The next number on the program necessitated the 
disappearance behind a sheet drawn across the end 
of the room of almost all the members of the Club. 
Helen, who was making the announcements, stayed 
outside. A light came into view behind the curtain 
and the lights in the room were put out. 

“This is the last day of the year,” began Helen 
when a muffled whisper had told her that all was 
ready, “and everybody is eager to know what is go- 
ing to happen next year. We all would like to 
know, how the war is going to turn out, and what is 
going to be the result of the troubles in Mexico, and 
whether Rosemont will get its new park — ” 

She was interrupted by laughter, for Rosemont’s 
new park was still a live subject although it never 
seemed to approach settlement one way or the other. 


156 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“What you are going to see now on the screen we 
call ‘Prophecies.’ The poet Campbell said that 
‘Coming events cast their shadows before,’ and we 
might take that line for our motto. The first proph- 
ecy is one of trouble. It comes to almost every 
person at one time or another of his life.” 

Silence fell on the darkened room. On the sheet 
came the figure of Dicky. It was recognized by all 
and greeted with a round of applause. He looked 
around him as if hunting for something; then seized 
what was unmistakably a jam pot and began to eat 
from it with a spoon. His figure grew larger and 
larger and faded away as he walked back toward 
the light and disappeared beyond it. In his place 
came the figure of Edward Watkins, and those who 
knew that he was a doctor and those who guessed it 
from his physician’s bag understood that his appear- 
ance was prophetic of Dicky’s deliverance from the 
suffering caused by jam. 

The light behind the sheet was moved close to the 
curtain while the table and chairs were set in place. 
When it went back to its proper spot there were seen 
the silhouettes of a group of men sitting around the 
table arguing earnestly. 

“This,” said Helen, “is the Rosemont Board of 
Aldermen talking about the park.” 

The argument grew excited. One man sprang 
to his feet and another thumped the table with his 
fist. Suddenly they all threw back their heads and 
laughed, rose and left the stage arm in arm. 

“They’re wondering why they never agreed be- 
fore,” Helen decided. “It’s the Spring getting into 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


i57 

their bones; and here are some of the people who 
are benefited by the park.” 

The table and chairs disappeared and a bench took 
their place. There followed a procession of folk 
apparently passing through the park. A workman, 
shovel and pick over his shoulder, stopped to look 
up at the trees. That was James. A young man 
and his sweetheart — Roger and Ethel Brown — 
strolled slowly along. Dicky rolled a hoop. Mar- 
garet, carrying a baby borrowed from the audience, 
sat down on a bench and put it to sleep. 

The onlookers approved highly of this prophecy 
which was of a state of affairs which they all wanted. 

“The other day,” went on Helen in her gentle 
voice, “I found a prophecy that was not written for 
this war but for another, yet it is just as true for the 
great war that is devastating the homes and hearts 
of men to-day. It was written by Miss Bates who 
wrote ‘America the Beautiful,’ which we all sing in 
school, and it is called ‘The Great Twin Brethren.’ 
You remember that the Great Twin Brethren were 
Castor and Pollux. They were regarded as gods 
by the Romans. They fought for the Romans in 
the battle of Lake Regillus, and the high priest said 
about it, according to Macaulay: 

Back comes the Chief in triumph 
Who, in the hour of fight, 

Hath seen the Great Twin Brethren 
In harness on his right. 

These are the divine helpers to whom Miss Bates 
refers in her poem.” 


1 58 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

On the screen there came into view the shadows 
of Castor and Pollux dressed like Roman knights — 
with a corselet over a loose shirt, a short plaited 
skirt, greaves to protect their legs, a helmet on the 
head and a spear in the hand. While Ethel Brown, 
who had stepped forward, read the poem, the two 
figures — really Roger and Tom, who were nearly of 
a height — stood motionless. As it ended they 
glided backward and faded from view. 

THE GREAT TWIN BRETHREN 

The battle will not cease 

Till once again on those white steeds ye ride 

O Heaven-descended Twins, 

Before Humanity’s bewildered host. 

Our javelins 
Fly wide, 

And idle is our cannon’s boast. 

Lead us, triumphant Brethren, Love and Peace. 

A fairer Golden Fleece 

Our more adventurous Argo fain would seek, 

But save, O Sons of Jove, 

Your blended light go with us, vain employ 
It were to rove 
This bleak 

Blind waste. To unimagined joy 

Guide us, immortal Brethren, Love and Peace. 

These beautiful lines were read with great seri- 
ousness and their profound meaning went to the 
hearts of the hearers. Its gravity was counterbal- 
anced by the next prophecy which gave hope of im- 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


159 


mediate fulfilment. Across the screen passed a pro- 
cession of Club members, the first carrying a plate 
full of something that proved to be doughnuts when 
one was held up so that its hole was visible. The 
second person in the row bore a basket heaped high 
with apples, the third a dish of cookies. Then 
came more doughnuts, nuts and raisins, corn balls, 
and oranges. The lights were turned on, and the 
silhouettes, changed by simple magic into laughing 
boys and girls, passed among the people distributing 
their eatables. Every one had a word of praise for 
them. The Atwoods, for whom the effort had been 
made, said little, but shook hands almost tearfully 
with each performer. 

At home they found a rousing fire and something 
to eat awaiting them, with Mrs. Morton smiling a 
cheerful welcome. They sat before the fire and 
cracked nuts and ate apples until the chimes rang 
their notice that 1914 was vanishing into the past 
and giving way to the New Year of hope and prom- 
ise. Clasping hands they stood quite still until the 
chimes stopped and the slow strokes of the town 
clock fell on their ears. With the last they broke 
into the hymn : 

Now a new year opens, 

Now we newly turn 
To the holy Saviour, 

Lessons fresh to learn. 


CHAPTER XI 

ETHEL BROWN’S BIRTHDAY 

N EW YEAR’S DAY was not observed in Rose- 
mont with an especial demonstration. In the 
afternoon Mrs. Morton gave an informal reception 
at which the U. S. C. assisted, Helen, the Ethels and 
Katharine passing among the guests with a pleasant 
word for every one, and Dorothy, Margaret and 
Della seeing that all went straight in the dining 
room. Roger always appeared at such of his moth- 
er’s parties as his father would be present at if he 
were at home. 

“There have been so many festivities since I came 
I feel almost as if I were grown up,” said Katharine 
as the girls helped Mary put the house in order after 
the last guest had gone. 

“Festivities are about over for your Uncle Roger,” 
declared that worthy, gravely. 

“Why?” 

“This is my last year at the high school, you 
know, and I’m fitting for the Boston Tech. If you 
know what that means you know that I’ve got to 
study like a blue streak from now till the rare days of 
June arrive.” 

As he passed his mother a few minutes afterwards 
she looked up from her sewing and asked, “Have you 
forgotten Ethel Brown’s birthday?” 

160 



“Then came into view the shadows of Castor and Pollux ” 


[See p. 158] 



























































ETHEL BROWN’S BIRTHDAY 161 


“Why, yes, I suppose I had. When is it? Not 
this week?” 

“This week Thursday.” 

“Well, what of it, Mother dear? A birthday 
isn’t much.” 

“I was afraid you thought so. Do you want to 
know what I think about observing birthdays?” 

“I suppose you’ll put me awfully in the wrong — 
but I’d like to hear in spite of it.” 

“To me, taking notice of the birthday of a rela- 
tive or a dear friend is really more important than 
sending a remembrance at Christmas.” 

“ ‘Everybody’s doing it’ at Christmas so there’s 
no credit in remembering, I suppose you mean.” 

“Partly; Christmas is a day of universal rejoicing 
and universal giving; your birthday is your own day. 
If people remember it it is because they love you and 
want you to know they do.” 

“Remembering everybody’s birthday would mean 
an awful lot of present giving — it plays the mischief 
with a fellow’s allowance.” 

“That doesn’t sound like my generous boy ! How- 
ever, I’m not advocating the giving of expensive 
presents. If you remember to write a jolly letter 
full of good fellowship and affection — that’s a good 
recognition of a birthday. If you send a card to a 
friend he knows that you thought of him and took 
a little trouble for him. If you send your letter or 
card or your present so that he’ll receive it ex- 
actly on his birthday he’ll be more than ever 
pleased.” 

“You’ve hit me there. I didn’t remember 

43 


1 62 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


Father’s birthday last year until the day came. I 
wrote him then, though.” 

“I’m sure he was glad to get your letter, but I 
think he would have been more pleased if you had re- 
membered that his birthday was coming the next 
week and had found out just how many days it took 
for a letter to reach him and then mailed it so it 
would be in his hand on the right morning.” 

“I suppose he would.” 

“Do you want to know what your father thinks 
about birthdays?” 

“What you do, I imagine.” 

“Ever since the first year that we were engaged 
your father never has forgotten my birthday — not 
once. And that means that he often had to arrange 
for my gift months in advance.” 

“When he was on the Pacific station?” 

“Yes. Yet it never failed to come on time. 
Sometimes he had to send it from some port he 
touched at and get Grandmother to keep it till the 
right day. There never have been any difficulties 
that he did not overcome. And always there was a 
loving letter with the gift, and always the gift was 
chosen with the greatest care.” 

“Dad has good taste.” 

“It might not be expensive, but there was always 
some reason for its being given to me” 

“You mean it suited you particularly. That’s an- 
other on me. On Helen’s last birthday I dashed out 
at the last minute and got her some ribbons of a color 
that she never wears.” 


ETHEL BROWN’S BIRTHDAY 163 

“I remember. She told me about it though she 
didn’t say anything to you.” 

“She was too polite. Ethel Brown told me I was 
an unobservant goose or words to that effect.” 

“Helen was pleased that you remembered the day, 
but she would have been more pleased if you had se- 
lected your little gift with her likes and dislikes in 
mind and not seized on the first thing you saw in the 
store just to make yourself right with her.” 

“I get you, Mater.” 

“When your father was a young man on an en- 
sign’s pay he sometimes had to save his money for 
many weeks and to deny himself, in order to give me 
the kind of present he wanted to. When he has been 
on furlough he has always seen that I had flowers on 
my birthday, and he chose those with equal care. 
They were never anything but the very freshest that 
he could find, and they were always of a kind that 
I am especially fond of. O, my dear, your father is 
a model for you to follow’ in this small way as well as 
in many others more important,” and Mrs. Morton 
smiled through tears as she looked at her tall boy, 
so like his father in appearance. 

“All right, Mother, I’ll be very careful to pick out 
something that Ethel really likes. Is there any 
special plan on for her birthday?” 

“Grandmother Emerson is going to ask the whole 
Club to go into New York for the day. That will 
give Katharine a chance to see something of the city 
before she goes home.” 

“Good w r ork,” approved Roger. 


1 64 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

The big automobile never held a gayer crowd than 
on Ethel Brown’s birthday. The breakfast table had 
held many small gifts for her which she opened with 
delight. Miss Merriam, Katharine and all the other 
girls had given her each a piece of a silver toilet set, 
and the elders, Grandfather and Grandmother Emer- 
son, Mrs. Morton and Aunt Louise, had supplied the 
larger pieces. Roger had made a handsome copper 
tray to hold the brush and comb, and Dicky had sup- 
plied a pretty pin tray which he selected himself. 
Tom and James together had made a Line a Day 
book, Tom cutting the leaves for the little volume 
and printing the date in fancy lettering at the top of 
each page, and James making a cover of yellow, 
stencilled with a striking design in brown. 

“This will last you five years,” explained Helen. 
“Every page has five divisions, so you can see each 
year what you did last year on the same date.” 

“I believe I must have one of those myself,” mur- 
mured her mother. “It is enormously useful.” 

The car sped to Glen Point, where they picked 
up Margaret and James, and then on into New York. 
Tom and Della met them at the New York end of 
the ferry. 

“Now, then,” said Grandmother, “Ethel Brown 
shall select what she would like to do. We can go 
to the Aquarium, or we can go at once to the Wool- 
worth Building to see the view.” 

“Which would you like best?” Ethel asked Kath- 
arine. 

“Do you really want me to choose? Then I say 
the Woolworth Building. 


ETHEL BROWN’S BIRTHDAY 165 

“That’s just the way I feel,” exclaimed Ethel 
Brown, and Grandmother, smiling, gave the necessary 
directions to the chauffeur. 

It was indeed a wonderful experience. For fifty- 
three stories they were carried up in an elevator of 
ordinary size. At that elevation, they went four 
stories higher in a cylindrical elevator so small that 
they had to ascend in two detachments. When they 
stepped upon the roof, fifty-seven stories above the 
street, a splendid plain lay flattened before them. 

“It does look like a plain, doesn’t it? Even those 
tall buildings that you know are twenty or thirty 
stories high look flat as you gaze down on them.” 

“There’s the Liberty statue out in the harbor. 
How smooth the water looks and you know when we 
crossed the ferry we spoke of its being rough.” 

“That’s Governor’s Island where the army post 
is. See that funny round brick cheesebox at the 
western end? That used to be a fort — Castle Wil- 
liam — and the building where the Aquarium now is 
was its mate on the mainland — Castle Garden.” 

“Healthy ‘castle’ !” 

“See the piers stretching out into the Hudson.” 

“Over on the Jersey side are the big liners that the 
war has shut up here. The V aterland won’t ven- 
ture out until the war is over.” 

“Unless the Germans get possession of the North 
Atlantic.” 

“The guard up here says that you can see about 
twenty-five miles on a day as clear as this. That 
must take us way across Brooklyn and the other large 
towns on Long Island, to the east.” 


1 66 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“The city runs ten miles to the north, but we can 
see up into Westchester County if that is true.” 

“It’s superb, but it’s also extremely breezy up 
here,” shivered Mrs. Emerson, “so if you’ve had 
enough I think we’d better go down.” 

The car sped up-town to the American Museum of 
Natural History and the delighted party spent an 
hour gazing at the birds and beasts so cunningly 
mounted that each case shows not only the creature 
itself but the sort of life he leads, where he leads it 
and the food he eats. 

Out of doors again and the machine whirled still 
farther toward the northern end of Manhattan Is- 
land. The goal was the Jumel House, a finely pre- 
served building of Revolutionary days now cared 
for by a historical society and open as a museum of 
Revolutionary relics. It stands in a garden kept 
much as it probably was in the days of ’76, with its 
colonial architecture and articles of domestic use. 

“Some day we must go to the Fraunces Tavern 
way down town; it’s a very interesting old place,” 
said Tom. 

“What is it?” 

“It was there that Washington said farewell to 
his generals after the Revolution was over. They 
have kept the room in its original condition.” 

“That’s great,” commented Roger. “We’ll bring 
the girls in some day and lunch there.” 

“Wouldn’t it be glorious to go to Mt. Vernon some 
time !” 

“Did I tell you that Mr. Wheeler — the principal 
at Rosemont — is trying to get up a big party to go to 


ETHEL BROWN’S BIRTHDAY 167 

Washington for Washington’s Birthday? He says 
he can get very low rates if enough people go.” 

“Let’s tell Mother and Grandmother. Perhaps 
we’ll succeed in going, too.” 

So the trip down town was filled with talk of the 
Revolutionary days and of General Washington and 
of the proposed journey. 

“It wouldn’t surprise me if one or two of you might 
go if the party really is made up,” said Grandmother 
Emerson, smiling. 

“People in small towns do lots of things that you 
can’t do in larger places, don’t they?” commented 
Katharine as she listened. 

“When everybody knows everybody else it’s just 
like a big family,” explained Mrs. Morton. 

Luncheon at a huge hotel whose name Katharine 
had heard all her life and the afternoon at the Hippo- 
drome where marching men and trained animals and 
great stage pictures filled them with amazement com- 
pleted the celebration of Ethel Brown’s birthday. 
Everybody declared it an undeniable success. 

“I’m glad you have one of these every year,” de- 
clared Roger to his sister, and then he said in an un- 
dertone to his mother, 

“I bought a birthday book yesterday and I’m going 
to get you to help me write it up. I can ‘keep tabs’ 
on everybody’s birthday.” 

The first name he registered in it was that of Ed- 
ward Watkins, for when he escorted Dorothy home 
he found him calling on Miss Merriam. 


CHAPTER XII 


LINCOLN, LEE AND PEACE 

K ATHARINE ended her visit a few days later 
and returned to Buffalo under the care of 
Gretchen. She was escorted to the train, but the 
farewells of the Mortons were not intermixed with 
expressions of regret at her departure. She had not 
been a considerate guest and she had not seemed ap- 
preciative of efforts that had been made especially to 
give her pleasure. 

It was on the way to the Atwoods’ on New Year’s 
Eve. Katharine and Della were walking together. 

“It must be rather awful,” said Katharine, “to 
have a family scandal such as the Mortons have.” 

“A family scandal!” repeated Della. “What do 
you mean?” 

“About Dorothy. Her father was shot, you 
know.” 

“I know. But it wasn’t a scandal. It was awful 
for Mrs. Smith and Dorothy but there was nothing 
scandalous about it — nothing at all. Dorothy has 
spoken to me about it quite frankly.” 

“She has?” returned Katharine skeptically. “I 
shouldn’t think she would want to.” 

“I could see that it was very painful for her; but I 
think she and the Mortons, too, would be much more 
1 68 


LINCOLN, LEE AND PEACE 169 

pained now if they knew that a guest was discussing 
their affairs.” 

Katharine dropped Della’s arm and the two girls 
hardly spoke during the remainder of Katharine’s 
stay. 

When weeks passed and no “bread and butter let- 
ter” came from Katharine to thank Mrs. Morton and 
the family, the rudeness set the capstone to her sins 
against hospitality. 

“Any letter from Katharine?” became a daily ques- 
tion from Roger when he came in from school and 
when he received a negative he sometimes opened his 
lips as if to say something in condemnation. 

“Take care,” his mother warned him when this 
happened; “because a guest makes mistakes is no 
reason that her host should copy them.” 

With the coming of the new year the young people 
all settled down to serious work. Not only Roger 
but James and Tom also were to graduate in June, 
and all of them wanted to do themselves credit. 
James was going to Harvard and later to the Har- 
vard Medical School. Tom was booked for Yale 
and then for business. 

Roger was especially eager to make a good show- 
ing because he knew that it was a disappointment to 
his father that he did not wish to follow the family 
tradition and go into the Army or Navy. He 
wanted to prove by winning honors that not only had 
he chosen the work that he liked but the work for 
which he was naturally fitted. He became, there- 
fore, a regular “dig” and the girls found it hard to 
interest him in anything that did not have some con- 


170 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

nection with his daily duties. He did allow himself 
a thorough-going holiday on Saturdays and he and 
the other boys met with the girls in Dorothy’s attic 
if the weather was bad, or went skating or coasting or 
on a tramp if it was fine. The Club did nothing 
festive, however, until February. 

“The Club hasn’t done a thing since 1915 came 
in,” said Helen one Saturday afternoon. 

“You’ll still be coming to me to know what my 
great idea is,” laughed Roger. 

“Your April Fool idea?” questioned James. 

“That idea of his that’s as big as a house,” jeered 
Tom. 

“Never you mind — you’ll come yet. My pro- 
phetic eye sees you begging me for information.” 

“Meanwhile,” retorted Helen, “we aren’t without 
an idea or two of our own still left. I move — ” 

“You can’t move; you’re the presiding officer.” 

“Sure enough. I suggest, then — ” 

“Accepted. Proceed.” 

“ — that we celebrate some of the birthdays that 
are abundant about this time.” 

“Mine isn’t until the summer,” said Roger cheer- 
fully, “but I don’t mind having two celebrations if the 
Ethels will make plenty of candy.” 

“What I was thinking of,” went on Helen, ignor- 
ing him, “was that we might celebrate Lincoln’s 
birthday on the twelfth and Lee’s at the same time.” 

“When is Lee’s birthday?” 

“On January 19th. It came not very long ago, 
you see, and I don’t see why we couldn’t do honor to 
both great men at the same time.” 


LINCOLN, LEE AND PEACE 17 1 

“Good work,” exclaimed Tom. “I’m for any- 
thing that will unite the U. S. A. in an increasing 
spirit of love and brotherhood.” 

“And I’m strong on the other one of the Great 
Twin Brethren — Peace,” asserted Roger, his mouth 
set determinedly. “Military preparedness didn’t 
keep the peace in Europe and it seems to me that it 
would be a good plan to be prepared for peace just 
about now. I mean a peace that is constructive and 
efficient and works for the advancement of all coun- 
tries instead of the exaltation of one.” 

“What you’re after is a sort of United States of 
the World,” guessed Ethel Blue. “A peaceful union 
of every nation on the planet.” 

“Do you think you’ll ever see it?” asked Ethel 
Brown. 

“Probably not. But I’m fairly busting to do some- 
thing that will hasten the day when fighting will stop. 
You’ll think that’s queer talk for a boy whose father’s 
in the Navy,” he went on, flushing warmly, “but I’ve 
been thinking a lot about it ever since this European 
business began, and I can’t help feeling that if every- 
body pulled together for peace there’d be peace.” 

“You and James and I are going to beat our 
swords into ploughshares,” said Tom soberly. 

“I don’t think women have worked for peace 
as much as they think they have,” said Ethel Blue. 

“As they think they have?” repeated Ethel Brown. 

“I know what Ethel Blue means,” offered Mar- 
garet. “I believe women are self-deceived. They 
think because they suffer so much when their hus- 
bands and sons go to war and because they object to 


172 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

war in their hearts that they have objected openly. 
It seems to me that most women are always doing 
things to make their children think about fighting. 
They give little boys toy soldiers and dress them in 
soldier suits and put the bands of war ships on their 
hats.” 

“And when they grow older they send them to 
military schools,” added Della. “I never thought 
about it before but I believe you’re right.” 

“And when the war breaks out the women don’t 
see that perhaps they might have done something to 
prevent it by arousing public opinion before the quar- 
rel got too far advanced between the two countries, 
and they try to smile and cheer the men on.” 

“They have to do that if war has really come,” 
said Helen, the soldier’s daughter, “but I do believe 
that the thought of war is in all our minds much 
more than we realize. Now we Mortons are in the 
business, so to speak, with Father and Uncle Richard 
in the Service, but you Hancocks and you Watkinses 
haven’t had the same experience and yet all of you ad- 
mit, don’t you, that there was a definite war influence 
in your childhood and not a definite peace influence?” 

The Hancocks and the Watkinses nodded gravely. 

“Of course we youngsters can’t do anything about 
it,” Helen went on, but she was interrupted by Della. 

“I think we can do something about it because we 
are the people who are going to be doing the work 
of the United States fifteen or twenty years from now 
and if we start soon enough we may roll up a snow- 
ball of public opinion that will be something to be 
reckoned with by the time we’re grown. I wish there 


LINCOLN, LEE AND PEACE 173 

was something we could do this minute that would 
show just where we stand.” 

“There is,” said Helen. “That is, I was think- 
ing that if we had a celebration of the birthdays of 
Lincoln and Lee we might make it a plea for peace in- 
stead of a glorification of war.” 

Roger rose and tiptoed over to his sister’s side. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he remarked in a tone of 
awe, “this is Johnny-on-the-Spot with a practical 
idea ! I’m proud to know you, Madam President.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Roger,” entreated the subject 
of Roger’s admiration. “Let’s get together on a 
program. Ethel Blue, you always have ideas ready 
— what’s on your mind now?” 

“Let me think a minute,” returned Ethel, and all 
the others sat without speaking for a time. 

“We couldn’t have anything without Helen’s usual 
historical address,” said Tom, breaking the silence. 

“Helen isn’t keen on doing it herself but she thinks 
it ought to be done by somebody,” retorted that 
young woman. 

“Helen’s right,” Margaret supported her friend. 
“If you have the history or the biography of the 
occasion or the people you’re celebrating you have a 
sort of background for your picture. I think we 
ought to have at the beginning a short sketch of the 
lives of Lincoln and Lee.” 

“So do I,” said Roger. “One of us can take Lin- 
coln and the other Lee, and if this is going to be a 
plea for peace we mustn’t talk much about what they 
did in the war but about the qualities of the men 
themselves. They were both trying to be construe- 


i 7 4 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

tive, Lincoln to hold together the Union, and Lee to 
gain for the South the right to live a political life 
separate from the rest of the country.” 

“I thought the war was fought about the slaves,” 
said Della. 

“That was a side issue,” explained Helen. “The 
war was fought because the men who wrote the Con- 
stitution of the United States did not make it abso- 
lutely clear whether each state was bound forever to 
every other, or whether a state had the right to with- 
draw if it wanted to. If they had either known 
their own minds better or else had expressed them- 
selves better there probably never would have been 
the awful Civil War.” 

“I’ve lived in the South,” said Dorothy, “and I 
never yet met a southern person who was not glad 
that slavery was a thing of the past. If the war had 
not come the South itself would have abolished 
slavery by degrees. Several of the states had al- 
ready discussed how to do it — Virginia, for instance. 

“Any way, we don’t have to discuss these ques- 
tions at our birthday party; the peace that both of 
them would rather have had than the most brilliant 
warfare for itself alone; the peace that gives the 
United States unparalleled power to-day when it is 
the only great nation of the world that isn’t fighting.” 

“I learned some poetry about Lincoln the other 
day,” said Ethel Brown who had the excellent habit 
of committing to memory a stanza or two of poetry 
every day. 

“Let’s have it.” 

“It’s by Edwin Markham, the poet who became 


LINCOLN, LEE AND PEACE 175 

famous by writing ‘The Man with the Hoe.’ It 
goes: — 

“The color of the ground was in him, the red earth; 

The tang and odor of the primal things — 

The rectitude and patience of the rocks; 

The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn; 
The courage of the bird that dares the sea; 

The justice of the rain that loves all leaves; 

The pity of the snow that hides all scars; 

The loving-kindness of the wayside well; 

The tolerance and equity of light 
That gives as freely to the shrinking weed 
As to the great oak flaring to the wind — 

To the grove’s low hill as to the Matterhorn 
That shoulders out the sky. 

“That’s pretty fine, isn’t it? Because it makes 
you realize that all those qualities are as natural as 
Nature itself if men just let themselves be natural 
and don’t fill themselves up with selfish thoughts.” 

“I learned some verses about General Lee,” said 
Dorothy. “They are by Julia Ward Howe, who 
wrote the ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic,’ and their 
tribute is all the stronger because it comes from a 
northern woman. You know, after the war Lee be- 
came the president of a college. That’s what the 
first stanza refers to. 

“A gallant foeman in the fight, 

A brother when the fight was o’er, 

The hand that led the host with might 
The blessed torch of learning bore. 


i 7 6 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“No shriek of shells or roll of drums, 

No challenge fierce, resounding far, 

When reconciling Wisdom comes 
To heal the cruel wounds of war. 

“Thought may the minds of men divide, 

Love makes the heart of nations one, 

And so, thy soldier grave beside, 

We honor thee, Virginia’s son.” 

“That makes you take off your hat to a man and a 
gentleman,’’ exclaimed Roger, bringing his hand to 
his forehead in salute. 

“Doesn’t it! I know a poem about a boy who 
fought in the war. It’s awful to think of boys like 
Roger and James and Tom going to war and getting 
smashed and ill, so it will really be a peace lesson. 
What do you say to having that?” It was Ethel 
Blue speaking. 

“Let’s hear it.” 

“It’s by Francis Ticknor and it’s called ‘Little Gif- 
fen,’ ” and she recited the poem about the brave Ten- 
nessee lad who was off and away to fight again as 
soon as his wounds were mended. 

“Good for Little Giffen ! It’s one of the horrors 
of all wars, Father says, that there are many like 
him — unspeakably brave, yet killed instead of grow- 
ing up to be useful citizens.” 

“Somebody ought to say that right at that point, 
and then we might talk straight talk about peace.” 

“People used to say that men grew soft and sissy 
in times of peace.” 

“What we want is a peace in which every man and 


LINCOLN, LEE AND PEACE 177 

woman isn’t getting soft but is working hard all the 
time to make the country and the state and the com- 
munity better in every way.” 

“All the strength and energy that goes into war is 
constructive destruction, isn’t it? All that strength 
and energy ought to go into constructive construc- 
tion.” 

“You’re using pretty big words, you high school 
people,” complained Ethel Brown. 

“Perhaps we are. ‘Construction’ is building, isn’t 
it?” 

The Ethels nodded. 

“It’s the opposite of destruction. Well, what this 
generation has got to do if it has any sense, is to put 
its strength into building up its feeling of brother- 
hood and justice so that there won’t be any strikes 
and quarrels; and into building up its industries and 
its commerce, so that everybody will have enough 
money to live on properly; and in building roads and 
bridges and railroads so that people all over the 
country can succeed in knowing each other, and in 
digging sewers and putting up electric light poles so 
that people at home may live in comfort.” 

“And to help bring all that about is just as glorious 
as to fight a battle and kill your fellowmen,” added 
Helen. “This is queer talk for soldiers’ children, 
but the more I read about this war the more I feel 
that it’s what Grandfather calls ‘misdirected energy’ 
as when Dicky stamps around the house like a young 
colt.” 

“I’d like to move, Madam President,” said James, 
addressing Helen, “that Roger gather up these re- 
44 


178 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

marks of ours about peace and make it into a little 
speech to go on the program.” 

“All right, I will,” said Roger promptly, without 
waiting for Helen to put the motion. 

“ ‘Peace hath her victories no less renowned than 
war,’ ” quoted Ethel Brown. 

“Peace hath higher tests of manhood 
Than battle ever knew,” 

quoted Ethel Blue. 

“ ‘There never was a good war, or a bad peace,’ ” 
quoted Helen. “Now let’s see how our program 
goes.” 

“I’ve jotted it down,” said Ethel Blue, the secre- 
tary. “First, a talk by Helen telling why we are cele- 
brating together the birthdays of two men who were 
opposed in their lifetime — because they are two great 
Americans whom we honor as men” 

“I accept,” said Helen. 

“Next, two short biographies of Lincoln and Lee, 
say by Margaret and Della.” 

Margaret and Della nodded their willingness to do 
their parts. 

“Then those Markham verses about Lincoln. 
Ethel Brown can recite them and I’ll come after with 
Mrs. Howe’s poem on Lee.” 

“That’s the place for those two.” 

“Wouldn’t it be a good plan then to have Tom say 
something about the waste that it is to a country to 
lose its young men in war, no matter how brave they 
are, when they might help the country in better ways 
if they had a chance to become useful citizens? If 


LINCOLN, LEE AND PEACE 179 

‘Little GiffenV grit had been used for some benefit 
to his fellowmen in times of peace it would have been 
as great a victory for him as dying in war. And 
then Dorothy can read ‘Little Giffen.’ ” 

“Right-o, n commended Roger. 

“Then Roger can give his talk on constructive 
peace.” 

“I’ll be glad to,” said Roger promptly. “And 
right here I’d like to give the Club an invitation from 
Mr. Wheeler. I told him we were going to cele- 
brate and he said he’d be much obliged if we’d do it 
in the high* school hall and let the high school pupils 
come in, and I told him we’d be delighted.” 

“We are,” said Della. “It’s a good chance to put 
a spoke in old War’s wheel in the presence of the 
young people who are the coming fighters or peace 
livers.” 


CHAPTER XIII 
valentine’s day 

I T was the day after Lincoln’s birthday, and Satur- 
day. All had gone well with the celebration and 
the Club was looking forward now to an evening with 
the Watkinses, who were to have a Valentine party 
on the 13th because the 14th was Sunday. 

Edward Watkins had come out for his weekly visit 
to Elisabeth and was sitting in Mrs. Smith’s living 
room surveying her and talking to Miss Merriam. 
Elisabeth was walking with a fair degree of stead- 
iness now, and made her way about all the rooms of 
the house without assistance. She still preferred to 
crawl upstairs and she could do that so fast that the 
person who was supposed to watch her had to be 
faithful or she would disappear while an eye lingered 
too long on the page of an interesting book or on the 
face of a friend. 

Downstairs Edward leaned forward from his 
chair in front of Gertrude and picked up the ball 
from which she was knitting a soldier’s scarf. He 
paid out the yarn to her as she needed it. 

“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” he asked softly. 
“Happy ! I should say so ! Next to having your 
very own home I can’t imagine anything lovelier than 
this, with dear people and a pretty house and a darl- 
ing baby. It’s beautiful.” 

180 


VALENTINE’S DAY 


181 


“You’d hate to leave it, wouldn’t you?” 

“Leave it? Why should I leave it? I think they 
like me. I think they want me to stay.” 

She looked at him piercingly, evidently disturbed 
at the suggestion. 

“Want you to stay! I should think they would!” 
ejaculated the young physician. “I was just wonder- 
ing what inducement would make you leave these dear 
people and this pretty house and this darling baby. 
If any one should — ” 

“Hullo,” cried Ethel Brown, entering at this in- 
stant. “Do you know where Aunt Louise is?” 

“She went out,” replied Miss Merriam, somewhat 
nervously. 

“Dorothy has gone to Della’s this afternoon to 
help her get ready for to-night,” Ethel said. 

“She arrived before I left,” admitted Edward — a 
confession that drew a long look from Gertrude. 

“Where’s Ayleesabet?” 

“Playing under the table,” answered Gertrude in 
cheerful ignorance that Ayleesabet had departed to 
more stimulating regions over the stairs. 

Ethel lifted the table cover to investigate. 

“She isn’t here.” 

Gertrude jumped up and the doctor followed her 
into the hall. Ethel Brown ran into the dining room 
and then upstairs, with Miss Merriam in pursuit. 

It was a moment of relief for everybody when 
Ethel gave a shout of discovery. 

“Here she is!” she called, “and O, what will Dor- 
othy say when she comes back and sees her room!” 

“What’s the modern way of dealing with that situ- 


1 82 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


ation?” Edward asked when Miss Merriam re-ap- 
peared with Elisabeth under one arm. 
f “Do you mean ought she to be punished? Why 
should she ? She was only following out her instinct 
to learn. How could she know that that was a time 
and place where it would inconvenience somebody 
else if she did? I’m the one to be punished for let- 
ting her have the opportunity.” 

“I suppose that’s true. She’d never learn much 
If she didn’t investigate, would she? And, as you 
say, she isn’t yet conscious that she has any especial 
duty toward any one else’s comfort.” 

“The Misses Clark are always saying ‘No, no,’ to 
her. I should think she’d think of their house as 
‘No, no Castle.’ ” 

“They love her, though,” defended Ethel Brown. 

“That’s why I let her go there. A baby knows 
when she’s loved and those two old ladies make her 
feel it even above the ‘No, Nos.’ ” 

“I went in there yesterday when I saw Elisabeth’s 
carriage outside their door,” said Ethel, “and I found 
the older Miss Clark sitting on the floor clapping her 
hands and the baby trying to dance and sitting down, 
bang, every four or five steps.” 

Elisabeth was in a coquettish mood and played like 
a kitten with Edward. 

“She is the very sweetest thing I ever saw!” ex- 
claimed Ethel Brown. “I do wish I could take her 
to Washington.” 

“Take her to Washington! What on earth do 
you mean?” asked Miss Merriam. 

“Nothing, only I hate to go away from her for 


VALENTINE’S DAY 


183 

even a few days. I came over to tell Dorothy that 
Grandfather Emerson is going to send us all to Wash- 
ington with Mr. Wheeler’s party for Washington’s 
Birthday. Do you think Aunt Louise will let her 
go?” 

“I think it will depend on who are going.” 

“There’ll be lots of older people and teachers 
from our church and both the other churches, too.” 

“Any of your mother’s particular friends?” 

“I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if Grandmother and 
Grandfather went themselves.” 

“Then your mother won’t have any objection.” 

“That would settle the question for Dorothy, too, 
I should think,” said Edward. “Are you taking out- 
siders along?” 

“Outsiders ?” 

“New Yorkers. Della and Tom, for instance ?” 

“Oh, is there any chance of Mrs. Watkins’s letting 
them go?” 

“I’ll suggest it if you think they’d be welcome.” 

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. Mr. Wheeler 
wants to have as many as possible because the more 
there are the better rates he can make with the rail- 
road and at the hotel.” 

“Why don’t you stir up the Hancocks?” 

“The whole U. S. C.? Why not? It would be 
just too glorious,” and Ethel proceeded to dance her 
butterfly dance around the room. 

“Talk it over this evening,” advised Edward, tak- 
ing up his hat. 

“Going?” inquired Ethel. 

“I might as well — I mean, I must go, thank you,” 


1 84 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

responded the doctor automatically, for she had said 
nothing to be thanked for. 

It was a charming table around which the Club 
seated itself at the Watkinses’. Mr. and Mrs. Wat- 
kins sat at the head and foot and Della and Tom in 
the center of the sides. 

“I ran in to see the baby a minute before I left,” 
Ethel Blue explained to Mrs. Watkins, u and Dr. 
Watkins was there and he asked me to tell you that 
Aunt Louise had invited him to stay to dinner.” 

“Edward is becoming a very uncertain character, 
like all doctors,” said Edward’s mother. 

“I think he is,” remarked Ethel Brown to Ethel 
Blue who sat beside her. “He was just saying 
‘Good-bye’ to Miss Gertrude when I left, and he must 
have stayed on after all.” 

Everybody had contributed something to the table 
decorations, but no one had seen them all assembled 
and they all paid themselves and each other compli- 
ments on the prettiness of the various parts and 
Della and Dorothy on the effectiveness of the whole. 

In the centre was a glowing centrepiece made of 
three scarlet paper hearts, each about eight inches 
high placed with the pointed ends up and the lower 
corners touching so that they made a three-sided cage 
over the electric light. From the top a tiny Cupid 
aimed his arrow at the guests before him. Della 
and Tom had designed this warm-hearted lantern. 

Half way between the centrepiece and the plates a 
line of dancing figures ran around the table linked to 
each other by chains made of wee golden hearts. 
Ethel Blue had drawn and painted these paper dolls, 


VALENTINE’S DAY 


185 


so that each represented one of the Club members 
and they served as place cards as well as ornaments. 

“I seem to see myself in Miles Standish’s armor,” 
said James. “Does that mean that I’m to sit here 
where I can admire my warlike appearance?” 



A warm-hearted lantern 


“It does,” said Della, “and I’ve put Priscilla next 
you so that for once you can cut out John Alden. 
Here’s John Alden — that’s you, Roger, and here’s 
a little Russian for you to take home to Dicky.” 
“Where ami?” 


1 86 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“And I?” 

“And I?” cried one after the other. 

“Can’t you guess? This is the Muse of History,” 
pointing to a white-robed figure holding a scroll. 

“Helen, of course,” they all shouted. “And isn’t 
this Hallowe’en witch Ethel Brown?” 

“It really looks like her!” 

“And what do you guess about this songstress?” 

“Dorothy, and the young lady knitting is Della.” 
“Right.” 

“I hate to think that that’s my face looking out of 
that cabbage,” protested Margaret, “but Ethel Blue 
has a wonderful ability to catch likenesses.” 

“That’s you, Mrs. Stalk of the Cabbage Patch, 
just as clearly as if it were your photograph.” 

“One of these two is mine and the other is for 
Edward,” guessed Tom. “Am I one of the Great 
Twin Brethren and is Edward’s the Pied Piper?” 

“Right again. And this is Ayleesabet herself, and 
the Guardian Angel is Miss Merriam.” 

“She is an angel, isn’t she!” exclaimed Della. 
“Look at these dozens of tiny hearts. Ethel Brown 
cut out those and James made them into the chains.” 

“Paste, paste,” groaned James melodramatically. 
“My future calling is that of bill-poster.” 

Everything that could be was pink at the din- 
ner. The soup was tomato bisque, the fish was sal- 
mon, the roast was beef, rare, the salad, tomato 
jelly, the dessert, strawberry ice-cream, and with it 
small cakes heart-shaped and covered with pink icing. 

In the drawing room a Cupid whirling on a card 
pointed with his arrow to a number, and the person 


VALENTINE’S DAY 


187. 

who took from Mrs. Watkins’s hand the envelope 
marked with the number indicated was instructed 
where to look for his valentine. Helen found hers 
Inside of the piano. The Ethels turned up diagonal 



corners of the rug in the northwest corner of the li- 
brary and discovered two flat packages. Margaret 
sought out a small bundle tied to the electrolier on 
the right hand side of the hall. So it went. 

Each of them had prepared a valentine for every 
other member of the Club, so each had nine, for 
Dicky had sent his in to be distributed with the rest. 
Each had made all his nine of the same sort though 
not all alike. James, for instance, had made prettily 


1 88 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


decorated boxes and filled them with candy. Tom, 
who had a knack at cutting paper, had cut lacy de- 
signs out of lily white barred paper which he mounted 
on colored cardboard, and out of thin colored sheets 
whose patterns were thrown into relief by a back- 




ground of white. Ethel Blue had drawn comical 
Cupids, each performing an acrobatic act. Ethel 
Brown had baked heart-shaped cookies and tied them 
into pretty boxes with pink ribbon. Dorothy’s 
knowledge of basket making led her to experiment 
with some little heart-shaped trays, useful for count- 
less purposes. She made them of different materials 



VALENTINE’S DAY 


189 

and they proved successful. Della stencilled hearts 
on to handkerchiefs, decorating some with a border 
of hearts touching, some with a corner wreath of in- 
terlaced hearts, the boys’ with a single corner heart 
large enough for an initial. Each one was different. 

Roger’s contributions were heart-shaped watch 
charms of copper, each with a raised initial and 
mounted on a strap of colored leather and furnished 
with a bar and snapper of gun metal. Margaret’s 
little heart-shaped pincushions were suitable for boys 
and girls alike. Some of them were small, for the 
pocket or the handbag; others were larger and were 
meant to be placed on the bureau. They were of 
varied colors, the girls’ being of silk to match the 
colors of their rooms and the boys of darker hues. 

Dicky’s offerings were woven paper book marks 
made like Roger’s blotter corners and intended to 
keep the place in a book by slipping over the corner 
of the leaf. Helen, who had been learning from 
Dorothy how to model in clay, had attempted paper 
weights. The family cat had served as a model, and 
each was a cat in a different position. Some were 
more successful than others, but, as Roger said, 
“You’d recognize them as cats.” 

When the search was over and every one had ad- 
mired his own and his neighbors’ valentines, Ethel 
Brown recited Hood’s sonnet, “For the 14th of Feb- 
ruary,” and Ethel Blue read part of Lamb’s essay, 
“Valentine’s Day,” and they all felt that Saint Valen- 
tine’s star was setting and that of the Father of his 
Country was rising resplendent. 


CHAPTER XIV 


WASHINGTON 

February 24th, 1915. 

Dear Katharine: 

Ethel Brown and I have been thinking a lot about 
you during the last few days because we have been 
sight-seeing and we haven’t been sight-seeing before 
since we all went in to New York when you were here 
and went up the Woolworth Tower and walked 
through the Natural History Museum. I remember 
we were pretty tired when we got home that night, 
but we’re much tireder now because our sight-seeing 
trip lasted from Friday afternoon till Monday night. 

Ethel Blue and I are going to write this letter to- 
gether because it will be too long for one person to 
write. I hope it won’t be too long for one person to 
read! 

Your father was stationed at Fort Myer so you 
know Washington. We Mortons had been there 
when we were little but we didn’t remember anything 
about it, and Dorothy had only stayed over a*train 
there once, and the Hancocks and Watkinses never 
had been there. You see the whole U. S. C. went. 
It was the ‘Community Trip’ of the Rosemont people 
that Mr. Wheeler, the high school principal, got up, 
190 


WASHINGTON 


191 - 

but he didn’t mind if a few people not from Rose- 
mont went, too. 

We left on Friday the 19th. There Were over a 
hundred in the party and I never had such a good 
time. (Neither did I. Ethel Blue.) We got 
there in the evening and some of the older ones went 
to bed early so as to be fresh the next day. 

This is E. Blue writing now. We were glad we 
did when we counted up the next evening how many 
million miles we had walked in the course of the day. 
We went first to the Capitol. We saw where the 
Senate and the House of Representatives sit and the 
guide showed us the doors the President goes 
through to the Capitol to give his addresses. 

I don’t ever expect to see on this earth anything 
so wonderful as the Congressional Library. We 
spent nearly all the rest of the day there. Some of 
the party went to other places but Grandfather told 
us that what we’d see at the Post Office and the Pat- 
ent Office and so on wasn’t to be compared for a mo- 
ment with the Library, and we weren’t sorry we took 
his advice. The paintings — well I can’t begin to tell 
you what they were all about, only some represented 
scenes and characters in literature and some showed 
natural scenery in different parts of the country and 
every one was beautiful, beautiful. As for the 
marble and the sculpture, it was all American marble 
and the flowers and fruits that were carved on it are 
all to be found in this country. It gave you a feel- 
ing of the greatness and the beauty of America that 
I never had before because we always hear so much 


1 92 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

about European art that you get the idea that 
America hasn’t any art. 

E. Brown now. What I liked best of all about the 
Library was a feeling it gave me that it was a per- 
fect building. All the ceilings seemed just the right 
height and the corridors just the right width. There 
was plenty of space. There was a decoration of 
some sort just where you wanted to see one. Grand- 
father says you feel satisfied because the proportions 
are good and the decoration in excellent taste. What- 
ever it is, I never had such a satisfied feeling about 
any building. 

Late in the afternoon we went to the White 
House. It was almost too late to go in but Mr. 
Wheeler knew Mr. Tumulty, the President’s secre- 
tary, so we went in to his office after we had seen the 
rooms where the receptions are held — the ones you 
read about in the papers. While Mr. Wheeler was 
talking to Mr. Tumulty, who should look through 
the door but the President himself. He saw all of 
us there and he said “Where do all of you come 
from?” Mr. Tumulty said we were from New Jer- 
sey, and then he was interested and he came out and 
shook hands with every one of us and asked us all 
about our school and said he’d never heard of a real 
Community Trip before. Ethel Blue told him we 
were going to spend Washington’s Birthday at Mt. 
Vernon, and he said he couldn’t think of any better 
way to celebrate. We showed him just which of us 
belonged to the United Service Club and explained 


WASHINGTON 


i93 


about it and he thought it was a good idea. I’m glad 
we talked with him. I shall always remember it. 

The next morning we all went to the President’s 
church. The congregation stood up when he came 
in, and after the service, when we were outside, he 
remembered us and bowed to us and said, “Here are 
my Jersey friends.” 

In the afternoon we took a long, long ride all over 
the city, down by the river and out into the parks and 
into the suburbs, with a man to tell us what all the 
buildings were. 

Here’s Ethel Blue again. Early on Monday 
morning some of us got up early and went to the 
Washington Monument. Of course it is only a little 
over half the height of the Woolworth Building, but 
it is a fine view from the top. 

When we came down we went to the Corcoran 
Gallery and saw the best pictures. The pictures 
were interesting, but I didn’t see any one I liked bet- 
ter than Rosa Bonheur’s “Horse Fair” at the Metro- 
politan Museum in New York. 

We went by trolley to Alexandria to see Washing- 
ton’s church — Christ Church. General Lee was a 
vestryman of this church. We sat in Washington’s 
pew, and it gave you a queer feeling — though I sup- 
pose thousands of people have sat in it since. It was 
a feeling as if he was so great that his spirit was 
strong enough to last wherever he had once been. 

We went on to Mt. Vernon and first Mr. Wheeler 
read Washington’s “Farewell Address” as we all 


45 


i 9 4 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

stood on the veranda. We saw Washington’s tomb. 
It is of plain brick with an iron gate, but all the men 
and boys took their hats off and I wished women and 
girls had some such way of showing their respect. 

The house was interesting — Helen nearly went 
out of her mind, she’s so fond of historical things. 
All the rooms have been furnished just as nearly as 
possible as they were in Washington’s day. Some of 
the furniture is really old and other pieces are repro- 
duced from old models or copied from pieces that 
used to be there. There are many things that really 
belonged to him — a card table on which he and 
Lafayette played whist, the General’s flute, his spec- 
tacles, a china figure, some dishes and glasses, a clock, 
a mirror, a sideboard, and chairs. In the room in 
which he died every article of furniture was actually 
used by him. You felt as if you were in church. 

Ethel Blue says I have no sentiment (this is Ethel 
Brown again) and perhaps I haven’t, but I don’t 
wonder Washington died of pneumonia ! Cold ! 
My, my! And no way of heating that frigid room 
except by a wood fire and you know how unsatis- 
factory that is for more than half of you at a time ! 

Ethel Blue says I’m too dreadful so I’d better stop. 
We came back to New Jersey by a late afternoon 
train, and if you think it was easy to get up early 
the next morning and go to school you’re much mis- 
taken ! It’s the best way to spend a holiday we know 
of, though, and we didn’t mind trotting our legs off. 
We’ve got enough to talk about for all the rest of our 
lives. 


WASHINGTON 


195 

The baby was all right when we got back. Dr. 
Watkins had been out every day to see her, and she 
remembered us all. She knows all our names and 
says them distinctly. We’re going to try now to 
teach her to say — “Washington — first in war, first in 
peace and first in the hearts of his countrymen.” 

Are you still alive — or haven’t you had the cour- 
age to read to the end of this tremendous letter 
from 

Yours affectionately, 

Ethel Blue 
and 

Ethel Brown. ' 


CHAPTER XV 

st. Patrick’s day and the first of April 
HE Misses Clark had borrowed Elisabeth for 



A the afternoon. It was becoming a custom 
with them, and as Miss Merriam insisted that her 
little charge should have her naps out of doors with 
unbroken regularity, the old ladies found themselves 
almost every day sitting, rug-enwrapped, on Mrs. 
Smith’s veranda or their own while the baby dozed 
luxuriously in her carriage. Elisabeth grew pink in 
the fresh air and if her self-appointed attendants did 
not do likewise they at least found themselves bene- 
fiting by the unaccustomed treatment. 

In early March a brother came to visit them. He 
was a dignified elderly man, “just like the sisters be- 
fore Elisabeth made them human,” Roger declared, 
“except that he has whiskers a foot long.” At first 
he paid no attention to the child, though the story of 
its escape from Belgium interested him. But no one 
resisted Elisabeth long and it was not many days be- 
fore Mr. Clark was holding his book with one hand 
and playing ball with the other. 

On this particular day Mrs. Smith and Miss Mer- 
riam had both needed to go to New York, and the 
Misses Clark had seized the opportunity to have an 
unusually long call from Ayleesabet. They had sat 
on their veranda with her while she napped, but when 


ST. PATRICK’S DAY 


197 


she came in, fresh and wide awake, their older eyes 
were growing sleepy from the cold and they went up- 
stairs for forty winks, leaving their nursling in charge 
of their brother. 

Ayleesabet was goodness itself. She sat on the 
floor and rolled a ball to her elderly playmate, chuck- 
ling when it struck the edge of a rug and went out 
of its course so that he had to plunge after it. She 
walked around the edge of the same rug, evidently 
regarding it as an island to be explored, Crusoe 
fashion. Her explorations were thorough. If she 
had been old enough to know what mines were one 
would have thought that she was playing miner, for 
she lay on her back, pushed up the rug and rolled 
under it. 

“Upon my word,” ejaculated Mr. Clark, adjusting 
his spectacles and examining the hump made by the 
baby’s round little Belgian body. “Upon my word, 
that doesn’t seem the thing for her to do.” 

But Elisabeth seemed entirely contented and made 
no response to the old gentleman’s duckings and 
other blandishments. 

“Come out,” he whispered in beguiling tones. 
“Come out and play.” 

No answer. 

“Come and play horsey. Don’t you want to climb 
up? That’s it. Up she goes! Steady now. Hold 
tight.” 

As he started on a slow tour of the room on all 
fours his rider lurched unsteadily. 

“Take hold of my collar,” cried the aged war- 
horse. 


198 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

Ayleesabet fell forward, her arms went around 
his neck and her hands buried themselves in his 
whiskers. With a chirrup of delight she righted 
herself, a bridle-rein of hair in each hand. On went 
the charger, his speed increasing from a walk to an 
amble. Louder and louder laughed Elisabeth. 
Steed and rider were in that perfect accord wherein 
man seems akin to the Centaur. 

At the height of the race the drawing room door 
opened and in walked Ethel Blue and Ethel Brown 
Morton. The horse stopped suddenly and wiped 
his forehead with one of his forefeet, but maintained 
his horizontal position in order not to throw his 
rider. Elisabeth’s equilibrium was somewhat dis- 
turbed by the abrupt cessation of her charger’s ad- 
vance but she kept a firm hold on her bridle and re- 
stored herself. 

“Go, go,” she chortled, thumping the prostrate 
form of Mr. Clark with her slippered feet and 
smiling with excusable vanity at the new arrivals. 

The Ethels stood side by side so stricken with 
amazement and amusement that for an instant it 
seemed that apoplexy would • overtake them. 
Thanks to their natural politeness they did not 
laugh, though they agreed later that it had been the 
hardest struggle of their lives not to do so. 

“We’ve come to take Ayleesabet home,” they said. 
“It’s awfully good of you to entertain her so long.” 

They lifted the protesting equestrian to the floor 
and put on her outer garments while the late steed 
resumed an upright position and dusted his knees. 

“A very good child,” he observed. “A very in- 


ST. PATRICK’S DAY 199 

telligent child. She does Miss Merriam great 
credit.” 

“She’s growing splendidly,” replied Ethel Brown. 

“Too bad she can’t continue under her care. Too 
bad.” 

“Can’t continue under her care!” repeated the 
Ethels in unison. “Why can’t she? What do you 
mean?” 

“Why, on account of Miss Merriam’s leaving. 
Of course you know. I hope I haven’t betrayed any 
confidence.” 

“Miss Merriam’s leaving!” exclaimed the Ethels 
as one girl. 

“We don’t know anything about it!” 

“Where is she going?” 

“When is she going?” 

“How did you know?” 

The questions poured thick and fast and Mr. Clark 
seemed distinctly taken aback by the excitement he 
had created. 

“Why, Dr. Watkins said that he thought she 
wasn’t going to stay with Elisabeth much longer. 
That’s what I understood him to say. I don’t think 
I’m mistaken,” and the old gentleman passed his 
hand nervously over the top of his head. 

“That’s perfectly terrible if it’s really so,” de- 
clared Ethel Blue, who was an especial admirer of 
Gertrude Merriam’s and a devout believer in her 
ability to turn Elisabeth from a skeleton into a ro- 
bust little maiden. 

“We must find out at once,” and Ethel Brown 
put Elisabeth into her coat with a speed that so dis- 


200 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


regarded all orderly procedure as to bring a frown 
to the young Belgian’s brow. 

The two girls talked about the news in low, hor- 
rified tones on the way back to Dorothy’s, and down 
they sat, prepared not only to amuse Elisabeth but 
to amuse her until the return of Miss Merriam, no 
matter how late that proved to be. 

It seemed an eternity but it was only half past 
five when she and Mrs. Smith came back. The 
Ethels sat before the fire in the sitting room like 
judges on the bench. They made their accusation 
promptly. Gertrude sat down as if her knees were 
unable to support her. Her blue eyes stared amaz- 
edly from one to the other. 

“Mr. Clark says I am going away? That Dr. 
Watkins said he thought I was going away?” 

Her complete wonderment proved her not guilty. 

“But I’m not going away! I haven’t any idea of 
going away — unless you want me to,” and she turned 
appealingly to Mrs. Smith. 

“My dear child, of course we don’t want you to,” 
and Mrs. Smith bent and kissed her. “We love 
you dearly and we like your work. I can’t think 
what Mr. Clark could have meant — or Dr. Wat- 
kins — ” 

“It was Edward Watkins who told Mr. Clark,” 
repeated Ethel Brown. 

Gertrude sat stupefied. 

“Unless the wish were father to the thought,” 
ended Mrs. Smith softly. 

“Unless he wanted it to be true?” translated Ger- 
trude inquiringly. “Unless — Oh!” 


ST. PATRICK’S DAY 


201 


A blush burned its way from her chin to her brow 
and lost itself in the soft hair that swept back from 
her temples. 

“He wanted it to be true, and he said he thought 
it was going to happen. Well, he’s altogether too 
sure ! It’s humiliating,” and she threw up her chin 
and walked firmly out of the room, for the first time 
forgetting Elisabeth. 

“What does she mean?” Ethel Blue asked her 
aunt. 

“Why is she humiliated?” asked Ethel Brown. 

“What is she going to do?” was Dorothy’s ques- 
tion. 

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Smith replied to Dorothy. 
. “We’d better not bother her. Don’t tease her with 
questions.” 

The girls obeyed, but they talked the matter over 
a great deal among themselves and they would have 
asked Edward Watkins about it the first time they 
saw him, except that their Aunt Louise guessed their 
plan and forestalled it by telling them that any men- 
tion of the matter would be an intrusion upon other 
people’s affairs which would be wholly unwar- 
ranted. 

The first time they saw Edward was the next day, 
when the Rosemont Charitable Society gave a bazaar 
for the benefit of its treasury, depleted by the de- 
mands upon it of an uncommonly hard winter. The 
seats were all taken out of the high school hall and 
the big room became the scene of a Donnybrook 
Fair on St. Patrick’s Day. Of course the U. S. C. 
had been called on to help; it had made a name for 


202 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

itself and outsiders looked to it for ideas and assist- 
ance. 

In fact, the idea of the fair was Ethel Brown’s. 
She heard her mother talking with one of the Direc- 
tors of the R. C. S. one afternoon about the unend- 
ing need for money and suggested the Irish program 
as a possible means of making some. 

“The child is right,” fat Mrs. Anderson promptly 
agreed. “Rosemont never had anything of the 
sort.” 

“It wouldn’t be harder to get up than any other 
kind of fair,” said Mrs. Morton. 

“And St. Patrick’s Day will be here so soon that 
it’s a good excuse for hurrying it.” 

So it had been hurried, and the day after the 
strange encounter with Mr. Clark and the disturbing 
conversation with Miss Merriam the scholastic 
American precincts of the high school were con- 
verted into an Irish fair ground. Every one who 
had anything to do with the tables or the conduct 
of the bazaar was dressed in an Irish peasant cos- 
tume, the girls with short, full skirts with plain white 
shirt waists showing beneath a sleeveless jacket of 
dark cloth. Heavy low shoes and thick stockings 
would have been the appropriate wear for the feet, 
but all the girls rebelled. 

“This footgear was meant for the earth floor of 
a cabin and not for a steam-heated room,” declared 
Helen. “I’ll wear green stockings, but thin ones, 
and my own slippers, even if they aren’t suitable.” 

The boys were less inconvenienced by their garb, 
;which included, to be sure, heavy shoes and long 


ST. PATRICK’S DAY 


203 

stockings, but also tight knee breeches and, instead 
of jackets, waistcoats with sleeves. 

Every one in Rosemont who had any green fur- 
nishings lent them for the occasion. Mrs. Ander- 
son robbed her library of a huge green rug to place 



Helen as an Irish colleen 


before the stationery booth over whose writing paper 
and green place-cards and novelties, all in green 
boxes, she presided robustly. 

Mrs. Morton, with Helen and Margaret to assist 
her, ruled over a table shaped like a shamrock and 
laden with articles carved from bog oak, and with 



204 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


china animals and photographs of Ireland and of 
Irish colleens. 

Dorothy told fortunes in the lower part of Blarney 
Castle, built of canvas but sufficiently realistic, in a 
corner of the hall. On top Tom was ready to hold 
over the battlements by the heels any one who was 
‘‘game” for the adventure of kissing the Blarney 
Stone. 

In the restaurant, which was a corner of the hall 
shut off by screens covered with green paper, Mrs. 
Anderson superintended the serving of supper by 
her assistants — Ethel Blue and Della and some of 
their friends. They offered a hearty meal of Irish 
stew, or of cold ham and potato salad, followed by 
pistachio ice-cream and small cakes covered with 
frosting of a delicate green. At one side Ethel 
Brown controlled the “Murphy Table” and sold huge 
hot baked Irish potatoes and paper plates of potato 
salad and of crisp potato “chips” ready to be taken 
home. Before the evening was many minutes old 
she had so many orders set aside on the shelves that 
held books in the hall’s ordinary state that she had 
to replenish her stock. 

James acted as cashier for the whole room. 
Roger, armed with a shillelagh, ran around for every 
one until the time came for him to mount the stage 
and show what he knew about an Irish jig. Under 
the coaching of George Foster’s sister, he and his 
sisters had learned it in such an incredibly short 
time that they were none too sure of their steps, but 
they managed to get through it without discredit to 
themselves or their teacher. 


ST. PATRICK’S DAY 


205 


Then Mrs. Smith played the accompaniments for 
a set of familiar Irish songs — “The Harp that once 
through Tara’s Halls,” “Erin go Bragh,” “Kath- 
leen Mavourneen,” “The Wearing of the Green.” 
Dorothy led the choruses, the whole U. S. C., in- 
cluding Dicky, sang their best, and Edward Wat- 
kins’s tenor rose so pleadingly in “Kathleen Ma- 
vourneen” that Mrs. Smith was touched. 

“I’m going home now,” she said to him, “to stay 
with the baby so that Gertrude can come to the ba- 
zaar. You may go with me if you like.” 

Edward did like. He glowed with eagerness. 
He hardly could carry on an intelligent conversation 
with Mrs. Smith, so eager was he to test the possi- 
bilities of the walk back when he should be escorting 
Miss Merriam. 

When they entered the house and he saw her read- 
ing before the fire his heart came into his throat, so 
demure she looked and so lovely. 

“I’ve come home, dear, so that you can go,” ex- 
plained Mrs. Smith. “Dr. Watkins will take you 
back.” 

Gertrude had given Mrs. Smith’s escort one 
startled glance as they entered. 

“Thank you very much indeed,” she answered. 
“You are always so thoughtful. But I’m not going 
out again to-night. It’s quite out of the question; 
please don’t urge me,” and she left the room with- 
out a look at the disappointed face of the young 
doctor. 

“Now, what does that mean?” he inquired in 
amazement. 


20 6 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“You ought to know.” 

“I don’t know. Do you?” 

“I think I do.” 

“Won’t you tell me?” 

“If you think over any conversations you have had 
recently about Miss Merriam perhaps it will come to 
you.” 

“And you won’t tell me?” 

“I may be a wrong interpreter. At any rate I’m 
not an interferer. Your affairs are your own.” 

“That’s a very slender hint you’ve given me, but 
I’ll do my best with it.” 

His best was of small avail. Miss Merriam 
would not see him when he called, did not go any- 
where where she would be likely to meet him, bowed 
to him so coldly when she passed him one day going 
into the house, that he actually did not have the cour- 
age to stop her, but rang the bell, and asked for Mrs. 
Smith. 

The Ethels and Dorothy felt that the part of 
courtesy was to preserve a civil silence, but they were 
consumed with curiosity to know just what was go- 
ing on. Certainly Miss Gertrude was not happy, 
for she often looked as if she had been weeping, and 
certainly Dr. Watkins was wretched, for Tom and 
Della quite immediately reported him as being “so 
solemn you can’t do anything with him.” Indeed, 
at the April Fool party which the Hancocks gave to 
the U. S. C., he indulged in an outburst that startled 
them all. 

Margaret and James had asked him because the 
Club had formed the habit of doing so when they 


ST. PATRICK’S DAY 


207, 


were undertaking anything special. The Ethels 
were quite right when they guessed that he accepted 
the invitation because he hoped to see Miss Merriam 
there. She did not go, offering as an excuse that 
Ayleesabet needed her. 

The April Fool party might have been named the 
Party of Surprises. There were no practical jokes; 
— “a joke of the hand is a joke of the vulgar” had 
been trained into all of them from their earliest days; 
— but there were countless surprises. The opening 
of a candy box disclosed a toy puppy; a toy cat was 
filled not with the desired candy but with popcorn. 
The candy was handed about in the brass coal scut- 
tle, beautifully polished and lined with paraffin paper. 
Each guest received a present. A string of jet beads 
proved to be small black seeds, and a necklace of 
green jade resolved itself on inspection into a collar 
of green string beans strung by one end so that they 
lay at length like a verdant fringe. 

The early evening was spent in the dining-room — 
no one knew why. When supper was served in the 
library it became evident that it was just a part of 
the program to have everything topsy turvy. It 
was evident, too, that a raid had been made on Dr. 
Hancock’s supplies, for the lemonade was served in 
test tubes and the Charlotte Russe in pill boxes. 

It was after supper when Edward Watkins had 
grown sure that Miss Merriam surely was not com- 
ing that he indulged in a burst of sarcasm. After 
a consultation with Margaret he drew the curtains 
across the door leading into the hall. 

“Are you ready?” he called to Margaret. 


208 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“Yes,” came in reply. 

“Then here, my friends, you see the portrait of 
the original April Fool.” 

He swept back the portiere and the laughing 
group, silenced by the energy of his announcement, 
saw Edward himself reflected in a mirror that Mar- 
garet had set up on a chair. They all laughed, 
but it was uneasy laughter, and Tom tried to re- 
assure his brother by clapping him on the shoul- 
der and exclaiming, “You do yourself an injustice, 
old man, you really do,” with a touch of earnestness 
in it. 


M pa i 1 



WMm 


m 












1 

• \ 

fyf&yp&Qk 


“ The fair was a great success 


[See p. 205] 


» ■ 









. 

























































CHAPTER XVI 


APRIL 19 AND 23 

E THEL BLUE took no part in the historical 
program that Helen put on the stage of the 
Glen Point Orphanage on April 19th, “Patriots’ 
Day,” when Massachusetts folk celebrated the Rev- 
olutionary battle of Concord and Lexington. The 
reason was that she was just getting over a cold that 
had come upon her at the very time when the others 
were making ready for the performance, and had 
made her feel so wretched that she could do nothing 
outside of her school work. This was how it hap- 
pened that she was sitting at the rear of the room 
when Edward Watkins came in, looked searchingly 
over the audience and then slipped into a chair beside 
her. 

“Miss Merriam not here?” he murmured under 
cover of a duet that Dorothy and Della were playing 
on the piano. 

“No.” 

“Do you know why she won’t speak to me?” 

Ethel Blue fairly trembled. What was she to 
say? She had been warned not to interfere in other 
people’s affairs. Yet she did not know how to an- 
swer without telling the truth. So she said: 

“I know how it began — her getting mad with you. 
I don’t understand why.” 

46 


209 


2io ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“How did it begin?” 

Ethel Blue looked about wildly. Dorothy and 
Della were thumping away vigorously. There was 
no possibility for escape. 

“Mr. Clark told us — Ethel Brown and me — that 
you said you thought Miss Merriam was going 
away soon. We were wild, because we love her 
so — ” 

There was a strange mumble from the Doctor. 

“ — and she’s so splendid with Ayleesabet. We 
asked her the minute we saw her if she was going 
away. She said she hadn’t any idea of it and she 
asked us how we came to think so, and we told her 
what Mr. Clark had said.” 

“Great Scott! What did she say then?” 

“Oh, Miss Gertrude and Aunt Louise said, ‘why 
should Edward have said such a thing?’ And Aunt 
Louise said, ‘unless he wanted it to be true.’ ” 

“Ah, your Aunt Louise is a woman of intelli- 
gence !” 

Edward smiled, though somewhat miserably. 
Ethel Blue was warming to her subject. 

“Miss Gertrude said you were too sure and it was 
humiliating, and she went up stairs and she’s never 
been the same since then. I don’t know why it was 
humiliating, but she was angry right through.” 

“I’ve noticed that,” said Edward reminiscently. 
“Now let me see just what she meant. She was told 
that I said I thought she was going away soon. 
‘Thought’ or ‘hoped’?” 

“ ‘Thought.’ Did you say it?” 

“And your Aunt Louise said that I must have 


2 1 1 


APRIL 19 AND 23 

wanted it to be true,” went on Edward slowly, un- 
heeding Ethel Blue’s question. “And Gertrude — 
Miss Merriam said I was too sure and that it was 
humiliating. Is that straight?” 

“Yes. Did you say it?” 

Ethel Blue was beginning to think that if she was 
giving so much information she ought to be given a 
little in return. 

“Do you know what I think about it?” asked 
Edward, again ignoring Ethel’s question. “I don’t 
wonder a bit that she was as mad as hops. Any 
girl would have been.” 

“Why?” 

“Do you really want me to tell you? Well,” con- 
tinued Edward in her ear, “I dare say you’ve guessed 
that I’m in love with Miss Merriam.” 

Ethel drew a deep breath and stared open-mouthed 
at Dr. Watkins, who nodded at her gravely. 

“I love her very much, and one day she was es- 
pecially kind to me and I went walking down the 
street like a peacock and plumped right on to Mr. 
Clark. We walked along together and he said some- 
thing about Miss Merriam, and I was jackass enough 
to say that I hoped — not thought, Ethel Blue, but 
hoped; do you see the difference?” 

Ethel Blue nodded. 

“I hoped that before long she would leave Rose- 
mont. Don’t you see, Ethel Blue? I said it out of 
the fullness of my heart because I hoped that before 
long she would marry me and go away.” 

Ethel gasped again. 

“I was riding such a high horse that I hardly knew 


2i2 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


what I said, but I can see that when that was re- 
peated to her with ‘thought’ instead of ‘hoped’ it 
looked as if I was mighty sure she was going to have 
me, and I hadn’t even asked her. Yes, any girl 
would be indignant, wouldn’t she?” 

Edward scanned Ethel’s face, hoping to find some 
comfort there, but there was none. Ethel’s discom- 
fiture and bewilderment had passed and she was put- 
ting an unusually acute mind on the situation. She 
understood perfectly that it looked to Miss Gertrude 
as if Dr. Watkins had made so sure that she re- 
turned his affection that he had gone about talking 
of it to strangers even before he had told her of his 
own love. 

“I don’t wonder that she felt humiliated,” was 
Ethel’s verdict. 

The program on the stage was going on swiftly. 
Helen had made the historical introduction, telling 
the circumstances that led to the affair of April 19th. 
Tom had recited “Paul Revere’s Ride.” James was 
following him with Helen More’s 

WHAT’S IN A NAME? 

I am a wandering, bitter shade; 

Never of me was a hero made; 

Poets have never sung my praise, 

Nobody crowned my brow with bays; 

And if you ask me the fatal cause, 

I answer only, “My name was Dawes.” 

’Tis all very well for the children to hear 

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere; 


213 


APRIL 19 AND 23 

But why should my name be quite forgot, 

Who rode as boldly and well, God wot? 

Why should I ask? The reason is clear — 

My name was Dawes and his Revere. 

When the lights from the old North Church flashed out, 
Paul Revere was waiting about, 

But I was already on my way. 

The shadows of night fell cold and gray 
As I rode with never a break or pause: 

But what was the use when my name was Dawes? 

History rings with his silvery name; 

Closed to me are the portals of fame. 

Had he been Dawes and I Revere 
No one had heard of him, I fear. 

No one has heard of me because 
He was Revere and I was Dawes. 

There followed tableaux, among them the Boston 
school boys demanding of the British general the 
right to play in and on the frog pond on the Com- 
mon, and the drummer girls of Scituate who marched 
back and forth behind the sand dunes and deceived 
the enemy into thinking that the Americans were 
gathering a large force. 

It was while the whole Club was singing some 
quaint Revolutionary songs and winding up with 
“Yankee Doodle” that Dr. Watkins made his appeal 
to Ethel Blue. 

“She won’t listen to a word from me,” he said. 
“She won’t let me speak to her. Do you think you 
could find a chance to tell her how it was? It was 
bad enough but it wasn’t as bad as she thinks. Will 


214 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

you tell her I’d like to apologize before I go to 
Oklahoma?” 

“Oklahoma !” 

“A friend of Dr. Hancock’s is settled in a flour- 
ishing town there. He has a bigger practice than 
he can attend to, and he sent East for Dr. Hancock 
to find him an assistant. He has offered the chance 
to me.” 

“But it’s so far away!” 

“I hesitated a long while on that account. You 
see I didn’t know whether Miss Merriam would care 
for the West.” 

“Weren’t you taking a good deal for granted?” 

“You’re finding me guilty just as she has. But of 
course a man has to think about what he has to offer 
a wife. I suppose you think I’m queer to talk about 
this with you,” he broke off his story to say, “but I 
haven’t said a word about it to any one and it has 
been driving me wild so it’s a great relief if you’ll 
let me talk.” 

Ethel nodded. 

“You see, my practice in New York is so small it’s 
ridiculous. You can’t ask a girl to marry you when 
you aren’t making enough money to support even 
yourself. But suppose I should go to Oklahoma 
where I shall soon make a good living, and then 
come back and ask her, and find out that she hates 
the West. Don’t you see that I’m not all to 
blame?” 

“Perhaps she wouldn’t like you enough to marry 
you no matter where you lived,” suggested Ethel. 


APRIL 19 AND 23 215 

Edward heaved a sigh that seemed to come from 
his very boots and leaned back weakly in his chair. 

“There’s a certain brutal frankness about you, 
Ethel Blue, that I never suspected.” 

“I thought you were thinking about all sides of 
the question,” Ethel defended herself. 

“Um, yes. I suppose I must admit that there is 
that possibility. Any way, if you’ll try to get her to 
let me talk to her I’ll be grateful to you evermore,” 
and Edward got up and stolled away to compliment 
the participants in the program, leaving Ethel Blue 
more excited than she had ever been in her life, even 
just before she went up in an aeroplane, because she 
was touching the edges of an adventure in real life. 

It was embarrassing to broach the subject to Miss 
Merriam. She was sweetness itself, but she was 
dignified to a degree that forbade any encroachment 
upon her private affairs, and twice when Ethel Blue’s 
lips were actually parted to plead in Edward’s behalf 
her courage failed her. 

It was when the Mortons were in Dorothy’s attic 
making preparations for a Shakspere’s Birthday cele- 
bration at Mrs. Emerson’s that she at last took her 
courage in her hands. 

It was purely by accident that the U. S. C. had 
a part in Grandmother Emerson’s party. She had 
invited a club to which she belonged to meet with 
her on April 23, when it was customary for them to 
take note of the day that brought the great dramatist 
into the world. Before Mrs. Emerson had given 
any thought to her program, however, she was called 


21 6 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


away by the illness of a sister, and she wrote back 
in despair to Mrs. Morton that she should not be 
able to return until the morning of the 23rd. 

“And what can I do in half a day?” she lamented. 

Mrs. Morton showed the letter to Helen. 

“There’s a chance for the U. S. C. to do a service,” 
she suggested. 

Helen thought so, too, and called a meeting of 
the Club to see what the possibilities were. She her- 
self and Margaret and the boys had read some of the 
plays of Shakespeare at school and the younger girls 
had heard the plays talked about at home so that 
they were not treading on entirely unfamiliar ground. 

“We’ll have to decorate the house, too,” said 
Helen. “This isn’t any easy job we’ve undertaken.” 

“I’ve got an idea there,” said Ethel Brown. “You 
know the English rose was the flower of the 1914 
Graduating Class at Chautauqua last summer. 
Mother and Grandfather learned how to make them, 
for of course they were out of season in August. 
If we make just one kind of decoration — that is, 
English roses for everywhere — we can get Mother 
and Grandfather to help and our minds won’t be 
scattered and shattered by having to do a variety of 
things.” 

“Done,” said Roger. “I know something about 
those roses. I cut wire for them one morning. They 
made about 2,000 up there. We shan’t need any- 
thing like that number.” 

“Let’s make out our program and each of us set 
to work planning his own part of it, and then we can 
all fall to on the roses.” 


217 


APRIL 19 AND 23 

“If I telephone to Grandfather now,” said Roger, 
“he’ll get the pink tissue paper for the roses and 
come right over with it and help us all the afternoon. 
I know he will.” 

“Go ahead,” commanded Helen. “While you’re 
gone we can do something on the program. The 
club — Grandmother’s club, I mean — always has a 
roll call of quotations from the author they’re study- 
ing, so we can depend on that as a starter. They’re 
supposed to know something about the life of the 
man.” 

“That cuts Helen out of her opportunity to make 
a biographical address,” laughed James. 

“Helen can survive the deprivation. I think it 
would be a good plan if we made them show what 
they know about Shakespeare.” 

“How? Have a quiz?” 

“That wouldn’t be bad; or play a game.” 

“What do you mean, game?” inquired Tom 
slangily. 

“Suppose I write out a sketch of Shakespeare’s life 
and read it to them. We’ll give out numbers to 
every lady. When I stop reading and call a num- 
ber that person must supply the information that is 
called for in that place.” 

“I see it. It’ll go something like this: — ‘Wil- 
liam Shakespeare was born at — Number 3.’ ” 

“That’s it. Number 3 will jump up and say 
‘Stratford-on-Avon.’ ” 

“Then you’ll go on: — ‘on April 23 — Number 
11 — ’ ” 

“Number 11 will call out ‘1564.’ Don’t you see 


21 8 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


in that way you can reach every event of his life and 
the names and dates of all the plays.” 

“That ought to have a leading place on the pro- 
gram. Then we must have music. Has Dorothy 
any remarks to make?” 

“Mother has a lot of settings of Shakespeare’s 
songs that she’s been collecting for years. I know 
some of them already and we can all learn some of 
the choruses without any trouble. They’re nearly all 

‘No enemy here shall he see 
But winter and rough weather/ ” 

she hummed. 

“ ‘Who is Sylvia ?’ is one that you know, I’ll 
bet,” cried Tom. 

“Of course it is. And the Fairy’s song in ‘A 
Midsummer Night’s Dream’ is another. 

‘Over hill, over dale, 

Through bush, through brier, 

Over park, over pale, 

Through flood, through lire, 

I do wander everywhere 
Swifter than the moon’s sphere; 

And I serve the fairy queen’ 

and so on. The music is charming, quick and trip- 
ping and fairylike.” 

“Dorothy’s singing is charming,” declared Tom, 
saluting with his hand on his heart. 

Dorothy returned his salutation with a minuet 
courtesy. 

“And of course we must have some of the 


APRIL 19 AND 23 219 

Mendelssohn ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ music 
played.” 

“I don’t want to miss a chance to dress up,” con- 
fessed rolypoly Della, dimpling all over her face. 

“We all like to if the truth were told,” admitted 
Margaret. 

“We might do a scene from ‘As You Like’ or 
‘The Merchant of Venice,’ ” suggested Helen doubt- 
fully. 

“I say let’s don’t,” objected Ethel Blue. “Any- 
thing we could do would only be a burlesque on the 
real thing.” 

“I think so, too,” Ethel Brown supported her 
cousin. “We don’t want to do anything we can’t 
do well. We could dress up like some of the char- 
acters, though. Just have tableaux.” 

“In a frame. Why not? I’ll be Falstaff,” of- 
fered James, who was the shortest and thickest of 
the boys and didn’t mind being laughed at for it. 

“Good for old James! I’ll be Shylock. I think 
my expression is just about ferocious enough for the 
old miser,” and Roger screwed his face into a hid- 
eous scowl. 

“The old ladies who admired you as John Alden 
wouldn’t recognize their pet now,” jeered Ethel 
Brown. “What will you do, Tom?” 

“Me for Romeo, the handsomest man Shake- 
speare ever drew,” declared Tom, thrusting his hand 
into the breast of his coat and gazing upward with a 
look of inane self-satisfaction. 

A howl of derision from the boys greeted this 
declaration. 


220 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“Make it Caliban,” urged James. 

“We ought to have the historical plays repre- 
sented; make it Henry V,” urged Helen. “Henry 
was very handsome,” she added consolingly. 



“Even our generous president rejects me as 
Romeo,” groaned Tom, pathetically. “So be it; 
Henry V I am,” and he stalked away to a corner 
and sat down in deep dejection until the girls began 


221 


APRIL 19 AND 23 

to choose their parts, when he could not resist com- 
ing out to join in the discussion. 

“There it is; I knew the first one out of the box 
would select Juliet, yet they all howled when I in 
my simplicity wanted to be Romeo,” he criticized in 
an injured tone. 

“Ethel Blue will make a very good Juliet,” de- 
cided Della. “I vote for Ethel Blue as Juliet.” 

“Helen ought to be Portia — the lawyer heroine 
in ‘The Merchant of Venice’ — the long black robe 
will look well on her.” 

“Helen for Portia,” wrote down Ethel Blue, the 
secretary, who always jotted down all the ideas that 
were offered so that they might be preserved for 
future use even if they were not of value at the mo- 
ment. “How are we going to know how to dress 
these people, any way?” she inquired, turning to the 
others. 

“There are several editions of Shakspere that have 
pictures of famous actors and actresses in costume. 
Grandfather has one and there are two others in the 
public library. We can copy those.” 

“That’s easy, then. Let’s make Margaret do 
Rosalind in ‘As You Like it.’ It takes a tall girl to 
do that.” 

“That’s a good choice. Where is there a fat one 
for me?” inquired Della. 

“How about Dame Quickly in ‘Henry V’ ? She’s 
just the size you’ll be in about forty years more,” 
suggested Tom promptly. 

Della shrugged her shoulders at this brotherly jest 
but accepted Dame Quickly. 


222 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


“We mustn’t forget Lady Macbeth. Who is 
there left?” 

“Ethel Brown and Dorothy.” 

“Ethel Brown is a little taller.” 

“Let her do that and I’ll be one of the witches in 
‘Macbeth.’ We might do the cauldron scene. That 



“Double, double toil and trouble” 


isn’t beyond our acting powers. Don’t you know? 
They brew an awful mess and move about the kettle 
saying: 

‘Double, double toil and trouble; 

Fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble.’ ” 

“We can manage that. The two girls who have 
been seen first can hop out of their costumes and 
slip on the witches’ cloaks and join you in the 


APRIL 19 AND 23 223 

Witches’ Cave. Now is everybody arranged for?” 

“The honorary member.” 

“Dicky? Oh, Puck, of course. There’s no hesi- 
tation about him. He’ll make a winksy fairy!” 

“How about the refreshments, Helen? Is 
Mother attending to those?” asked Ethel Brown. 

“Yes, but I was just thinking that we might have 
some old English dishes, boar’s head and peacock 
for example.” 

“Helen! Are you going crazy? Where could 
we get boar’s head and peacock? And even if we 
could they wouldn’t be in the least appropriate for 
an afternoon thing!” 

“You’ve grown up so fast you’ve forgotten how 
to pretend. I found yesterday in the tin shop some 
dear little tin moulds. We can either make a jelly 
boar’s head or a cake boar’s head.” 

“It’s a real relief to me to have that explained,” 
said Roger solemnly. “I feared for you; I really 
did. If you ask me my choice I’ll select a cake pea- 
cock, thank you.” 

“Why can’t we have both cake and jelly in each 
shape?” 

“No reason at all. If Mother likes the notion 
we’ll do that. She’ll be glad to be helped out.” 

A brisk shout from the foot of the attic stairs an- 
nounced the arrival of Grandfather Morton. 

“How are you life-savers getting on?” he in- 
quired. 

“We’ll put it through all right,” promised Ethel 
Brown. “If you’ll start us on these roses we can 
get them all done this afternoon.” 


224 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“Your mother is just behind me. That’s another 
pair of hands.” 

“Aunt Louise and Miss Merriam and Elisabeth 
are coming up in a minute,” announced Mrs. Mor- 
ton. “Father, you’ll have to refresh my memory 
about these roses. What do you do first?” 

“Give me your pencil, Roger. Here’s the out- 
line of the rose — five petals, you see, and the size 
of the real thing. If you draw those on the top 
sheet of a quire of pink tissue paper folded one with- 
out separating the sheets, and use sharp shears, you 
can cut out forty-eight at a time.” 

“Good work!” cried Roger. 

“The cutting is the fastest part. If the backs of 
the flowers are going to show as they will in a basket 
centrepiece your Mother is planning you must have 
a green paper calyx. Draw that on green tissue 
paper and cut it out just as you do the pink petals.” 

“Unless the flowers are liable to close inspection 
a small green circle will do well enough,” said Mrs. 
Morton. “Most of our roses are to be wired on to 
hemlock boughs high up on the wall so we can leave 
off the calyx altogether!” 

“But you can’t leave off the yellow centres,” went 
on Mr. Emerson, proud of his knowledge. “You 
cut circles of yellow paper for those. They repre- 
sent the pistil and stamens so they must look fuzzy.” 

“How do you do that?” asked Dorothy. 

“You fold the little circle in halves and then in 
halves again. Then you hold it in your left hand 
and run the hook of one of the pieces of wire that I 
was cutting and bending just now — ” 


225 


APRIL 19 AND 23 

“How long?” 

“Three or four inches — through the folded part. 
When you’ve rolled the yellow paper a bit to roughen 
it you are provided with a centre and a stem.” 

“I can guess that the stem pierces the pink paper 
next.” 

“Put the green calyx under the pink petals and 
run the wire through the middle of both right to 
the top of the hook, bunch them up and twist the 
loose end of the hook around the bunch and there 
you have a wild rose of a most distinguished appear- 
ance.” 

“Good for you, Grandfather,” applauded Roger 
again. 

They all set to work with vigor and before the 
afternoon was over there was a plentiful supply of 
English roses for the decoration of Mrs. Emerson’s 
drawing-room and dining-room. Mrs. Morton ap- 
proved of the program and the refreshment idea and 
Mrs. Smith promised to help in every way she 
could. 

“This certainly is a load off my mind,” sighed 
grandfather with profound relief. “I shall tele- 
graph to your grandmother to-night that she needn’t 
be worried in the least.” 

“We’re glad you have confidence in us, sir,” said 
Tom. 

Meanwhile Ethel Blue was sitting in a corner be- 
side Miss Merriam, their fingers among the paper 
roses, but both more silent than was usual with them. 

“Mr. Clark is deaf,” said Ethel Blue abruptly. 
“Edward Watkins didn’t say he ‘thought’ you were 
47 


226 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 


going away; he said he ‘hoped’ you were going 
away.” 

“Oh !” exclaimed Miss Gertrude, turning a startled 
face toward Ethel. 

“He hoped so because he loves you and he wants 
to ask you to marry him but he can’t until he has a 
good practice, and he doesn’t know whether you 
would like Oklahoma.” 

“Whether I’d like Oklahoma!” repeated Ger- 
trude slowly. 

“He wants to explain it all to you but you won’t 
let him speak to you. He’s had a good practice of- 
fered him in Oklahoma, but he won’t go if you don’t 
like Oklahoma ; he’ll try to work up a practice here, 
hut it will take such a long time.” 

“Ethel Blue, do you really know what you’re talk- 
ing about?” 

“Yes, Miss Gertrude,” replied Ethel, blushing 
uncomfortably, but keeping on with determination. 
“Please don’t think I’m awful, ‘butting in’ like this. 
Dr. Watkins asked me to ask you to let him see you. 
He tried a long time without telling any one; he 
told me when he couldn’t think of anything else to 
do. He didn’t really know why you were mad until 
I told him ; he just knew you wouldn’t see him when 
he called.” 

Miss Gertrude’s eyes were on her fragile pink 
work as Ethel Blue blundered on. 

“What shall I tell him?” she said, breaking the 
silence. 

“You may tell him,” said Gertrude slowly, “that 


APRIL 19 AND 23 227 

I have a school friend in Oklahoma who tells me 
that Oklahoma is a very good place to live.” 

Ethel Blue clapped her hands noiselessly. 

“But tell him, also,” Gertrude went on, her blue 
eyes stern, “that I shall be too busy to see him before 
he goes.” 

“Oh, Miss Gertrude!” ejaculated Ethel, disap- 
pointed. “I don’t quite know whether you care or 
not.” 

“Neither do I,” replied Gertrude, and she leaned 
over and kissed Ethel Blue with lips that smiled 
sadly. 


CHAPTER XVII 


WEST POINT 

M RS. EMERSON’S Shakespeare celebration 
went off with the utmost smoothness and she 
was highly complimented by the members of the 
club on having given them a novelty in the work of 
the young people. 

Ethel Blue gave Gertrude Merriam’s message to 
Edward Watkins who was as much puzzled by it as 
she had been. 

“What does she mean?” he asked. “Does she 
care for me or doesn’t she?” 

“She doesn’t know herself. I asked her.” 
Edward whistled a long, soft whistle. 

“Aren’t girls the queerest things ever made!” he 
ejaculated in wonder. 

“I don’t think it’s queer,” defended Ethel. 
“First, it was all guesswork with her because you 
never had told her that you cared. And then she 
was angry at your having talked about her when you 
hadn’t talked to her. Her feelings were hurt badly. 
And now she doesn’t know what she does feel.” 

“She isn’t strong against Oklahoma, anyway. I 
guess I’ll accept that offer.” 

Ethel Blue nodded. 

“I want to tell you one thing more before you go,” 

228 


WEST POINT 


229 


she said. “I haven’t told any one a word about 
this, even Ethel Brown. It’s the first thing in all 
my life I haven’t told Ethel Brown.” 

“I suspect it’s been pretty hard for you not to. 
You know I appreciate it. If things work out as I 
hope, it will be you who have helped me most,” and 
he shook hands with her very seriously. “There’s 
one thing more I wish you’d do for me,” he pleaded. 

Ethel Blue nodded assent. 

“If I can.” 

“I know you Club people will be hanging May 
baskets on May Day morning. Will you hang this 
one on Miss Gertrude’s door — the door of her room, 
so that there won’t be any mistake about her getting 
it?” 

“Certainly I will.” 

“It’s just a little note to say ‘Good-bye.’ See, you 
can read it.” 

“I don’t want to,” responded Ethel Blue stoutly, 
though it was hard to let good manners prevail over 
a desire to see the inside of the very first letter she 
had ever seen the outside of to know as the writing 
of a lover to his lass. 

“You’d better tell your Aunt Marian that I’ve 
told you all this,” he went on. “I shouldn’t want 
her to think that I was asking you to do something 
underhand.” 

“She wouldn’t think it of you. She likes you.” 

“Tell her about it all, nevertheless. I insist.” 

Ethel felt relieved. It had seemed queer to be 
doing something that no one knew about. 

“Thank you,” she said. 


2 3 o ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

The May basket was duly hung, and Miss Ger- 
trude’s eyes wore the traces of tears all the rest of 
the day, but Ethel Blue was not to learn for a long 
time what was in the note. 

May passed swiftly. All the boys were so busy 
studying that they could give but little time to Club 
meetings and there was nothing done beyond the 
making of some plans for the summer and the tak- 
ing of a few long walks. The Ethels and Dorothy 
and Della were doing their best to make a superla- 
tive record, also. With Helen and Margaret life 
went more easily, for graduation days were yet two 
years off with them. 

Memorial Day came on Sunday this year and was 
celebrated on Monday. It was Grandfather Emer- 
son’s suggestion that the Club with the elders go to 
West Point on Memorial Day. It meant an early 
start for the steamers left the pier in New York 
at an hour when it would have been comfortable to 
leave Rosemont, but suburbanites are accustomed to 
these occasional efforts and at the appointed time 
the party found itself on the great W ashing ton Irv- 
ing, the largest and most finely appointed river steam- 
boat in the world. 

Grandfather and the other grown-ups settled 
themselves in deep armchairs forward while the 
youngsters roamed about exclaiming at the hand- 
some furnishings, so unlike those of the warships 
they had visited. Roger and James and Tom dis- 
covered themselves at the door of the engine room 
and watched the engineer set the mammoth boat 
forging ahead by a touch of his hand. They learned 


WEST POINT 


231 


that tide concerned these modern monsters but little, 
and that they kept schedule time at all stopping 
places, almost like a railroad train. Fifteen or six- 
teen miles an hour was the regular rate of speed of 
the Irving , though it could go twenty-five without 
driving the engines very hard. 

The Ethels drifted into a writing room where they 
concocted a joint note on the boat’s paper to Kath- 
arine. Helen discovered private parlors with pri- 
vate deck room attached, and rushed off to the elders 
to try to persuade them to get one, but Mr. and Mrs. 
Emerson had settled themselves so comfortably that 
they could not be induced to move. She searched 
out the rest of the party and they all gathered in the 
bow outside of the wide-windowed cabin where the 
members-in-law were established. 

“Do you remember that big crowd on the pier?” 
asked Margaret. “This boat is so big that it just 
seems ordinarily well filled now,” and they all shook 
their heads in wonderment at its size as the boys had 
at its power as shown in the engines. 

They were now gliding smoothly up the Hudson 
and the sights around them occupied their attention. 
Riverside Drive was in gala array and they could 
see the walks lined with people waiting to see the 
military parade. Before them in a long line lay six 
or eight of Uncle Sam’s large gray ships at anchor, 
with gray launches full of sailors scurrying from 
one to the other to the shore carrying landing par- 
ties to join in the march. At this sight the Ethels 
felt an excitement which increased to white heat as 
the great steamer swept down the line within a bis- 


232 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

cuit’s throw of the mighty dreadnoughts, and the 
white jacketed jackies waved their caps and shouted 
to the monarch of the river. The two girls and 
Dicky climbed on to their chairs and waved and 
shouted enthusiastically. When they came opposite 
the Florida , which had once been Ethel Brown’s 
father’s boat, she wigwagged with her little flag some 
signals her father once had taught her as being a 
special salute to that battleship. 

“Look, look,” she cried. “See those jackies tak- 
ing off their caps !” 

“Hear them cheer. They’re cheering your sig- 
nal,” exclaimed Helen. 

“See, that fellow has grabbed a flag and is wig- 
wagging back the answer,” almost shouted Roger. 

Naturally the enthusiasm of the whole party knew 
no bounds when they glided by the great collier, 
Jason, which had carried their Christmas gifts to the 
war orphans, and they wished Elisabeth were with 
them to wave her little hand at it. 

The line of warships was in the distance behind 
them all too soon, and the youngsters had time to 
look at the Palisades, forbidding but impressive, with 
every now and then a handsome residence peeping 
over the cliff like “an eagle’s nest hung on the crest 
of purple Apennine.” It was Roger who quoted this 
and promptly asked who said it? When Shake- 
speare was guessed and then Milton and never a men- 
tion was made of Macaulay, he gave up in disgust 
and thereafter confined himself to donating to the 
company scraps of historical information about vari- 
ous spots as they came into view on the swiftly shift- 


WEST POINT 


233 


ing shores. He showed them where Fort Lee had 
been situated and places where the thin line of Con- 
tinental soldiers had held the heights and thrown 
back the red-coated fighters of England in the days 
of the Revolution. 

When the boat entered Haverstraw Bay Roger 
had entrancing tales to tell of how the British had 
captured Stony Point which the Americans had for- 
tified, and how Mad Anthony Wayne at the head 
of his Continentals retook the fort by suprise. 

“The Americans approached it from both sides in 
the dead of night,” Roger explained, “and so im- 
petuous was the charge of the two attacking parties 
of blue and buff that they met together in the very 
centre of the fort.” 

“There was no use resisting those old fellows 
when they made up their minds,” declared James 
proudly. 

They all looked with interest at this little wooded 
point jutting prettily into the river. A lighthouse 
raised its benevolent head over the point, and it was 
difficult to associate war and the roll of drums and 
roar of cannon with so peaceful a spot. 

Then Grandfather Emerson joined them and sud- 
denly the Hudson became alive with boats filled with 
soldiers and supplies hurrying back and forth. Ver- 
planck’s Point, on the east side of the river, where 
a twisting path ran through green fields and an 
old church reared its tower above a clump of trees, 
and where, Roger told them, a British army had 
camped and, later, an American army under Wash- 
ington, now became covered with canvas tents. 


234 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

Richly uniformed aides-de-camp galloped here and 
there carrying out the orders which Washington in 
person was delivering on a white horse, his face un- 
ruffled, his arm outstretched commandingly in the im- 
memorial attitude familiar to all American children. 

Under grandfather’s magic the scene shifted to 
still earlier days, and the wooded shores became 
filled with lurking savages. Keen eyes peered from 
beneath the fringe of bushes upon an adventurous, 
strangely-shaped sailing vessel with queer sails, pok- 
ing her nose into every bay and inlet. A sailor with 
wide breeches stood on the gunwale swinging the 
lead to be sure of deep water, and another, evidently 
in command, was on the poop. 

“It’s Hendrik Hudson,” cried Helen, blinking as 
if she really saw him. 

Peekskill, a good sized town on the east bank, 
drew their attention, and then the whistle announced 
the steamer’s approach to West Point. 

“Thee the railroad go into the rock!” cried Dicky. 

“It goes under the parade ground and doesn’t ap- 
pear again until after it has left the Point behind it. 
It takes a good long subterranean trip.” 

Grandfather packed them all into a waiting wagon- 
ette and the patient horses began the slow ascent of 
the sharp hill. They all looked up with interest at 
the huge stone masses of the Riding School and the 
Museum, towering above them, but Ethel Blue felt 
a delicate shiver of excitement, for at last she was 
seeing the place where her father had spent the 
happy years of his military training. 

It was dinner time when they reached the hotel, 


WEST POINT 


2 35j 

and Mr. Emerson marshalled his flock into the din- 
ing room, ugly and bare, whose walls have looked 
down on hundreds of the greatest men that America 
has produced. Mrs. Morton and Mrs. Emerson 
and Mrs. Smith went off to lunch with the wife of 
one of the officers, and the others established them- 
selves at a table which commanded a view of the 
northward reach of the river. 

“Those are real mountains,” said Margaret, gaz- 
ing at the beautiful scene. Mr. Emerson mentioned 
the names of Storm King and Crow’s Nest, and then 
they turned their attention to their soup, occasion- 
ally exclaiming when some steamer or a tug towing 
a string of barges came down the stream toward 
them. 

Dinner over they wandered about the grounds. 
The Museum was not open because it was a holiday, 
but there was a band playing on the Parade Ground, 
a squad of men was marching from one point to 
another with the perfect alignment that the cadets 
pride themselves on, visitors were reading the in- 
scriptions on old-time cannon, and uniformed young 
men were showing the attractions of the place to 
pretty girls whom they seemed to consider more at- 
tractive than the attractions. 

Up the hill they clambered to the church that hung 
on the side of the slope and within its dusk they 
looked at the banners that hung, many of them in 
tatters, from the beams. 

“It screws my heart all up so” Roger whispered to 
Helen, “but it doesn’t make me feel any differently 
about Peace.” 


236 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

“Nor me,” murmured Helen. “Every one of 
those ragged flags means superb courage, but it 
means also Death — death to the men on the Held and 
heartbreak to the women left at home.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


GRADUATION AND FOURTH OF JULY 

W ITH the coming of June thoughts of gradua- 
tion filled the minds of all the prospective 
graduates. The boys were able to get through their 
examinations quite early in the month, and as they 
all did better than they expected the last days of 
the month were days of joy to them. The girls had 
to wait longer to have the weight removed from their 
minds, but they, too, passed their examinations well 
enough to earn special congratulation fiom the prin- 
cipals of their respective schools. 

The graduation exercises of the Rosemont graded 
schools were held in the hall of the high school and 
all the schools were represented there. The Ethels 
and Dorothy all sang in the choruses, and each one 
of them had a part in the program. Ethel Brown 
described the character of Northern France and Bel- 
gium, the land in which the war was being carried 
on. Although no mention of the war was allowed 
every one listened to this unusual geography lesson 
with extreme interest. Ethel Blue recited a poem’ 
on “Peace” and Dorothy sang a group of folk songs 
of different countries. It was all very simple and 
unpretentious, and they were only three out of a 
dozen or more who tried to give pleasure to the 
assembled parents and guardians. 

237 


238 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

Roger’s graduation was more formal. A speaker 
came out from New York, a man of affairs who had 
an interest in education and who liked to say a word 
of encouragement to young people about to step from 
one stage of their education into another. 

“Of course education never ends as long as you 
live,” Roger said thoughtfully to Ethel Brown, “but 
there is a big feeling of jump when you go from one 
school to another, and you can’t deny it.” 

“I don’t want to deny it,” retorted Ethel Brown. 
“I’m all full of excitement at the idea of going into 
the high school next autumn.” 

The graduating class of the high school was going 
to inaugurate a plan for the decoration of the high 
school hall. They were to have a banner which was 
to be used at all the functions connected with grad- 
uation and in after years was to be carried by any 
of the alumni who came back for the occasion of the 
graduation and alumni dinner. During the year this 
banner and those which should follow it were to be 
stacked in the hall, their handsome faces encouraging 
the scholars who should see them every day by the 
thought that their school was a place in which every 
one who had passed through was interested. The 
power of a body of interested alumni is a force worth 
having by any school. 

The graduating class found the idea of the banner 
most attractive, but when it came to the making they 
were aghast at the expense. A committee examined 
the prices at places in New York where such decora- 
tions were made and returned horrified. 


GRADUATION 


239 

It was then that the Ethels offered to do their best 
to help out the Class of 1915. 

“We’ll do what we can, and I know Helen and 
Margaret and Della will help us,” they said and fell 
to work. 

Ethel Blue drew the design and submitted it to 
the class and to the principal of the school. With a 
few alterations they approved it. The girls had 
seen many banners at Chautauqua and they had 
talked with the ladies who had made the banner of 
their mother’s class, so that they were not entirely 
ignorant of the work they were laying out for them- 
selves. Nevertheless, they profited by the experi- 
ence of others and did not have to try too many ex- 
periments themselves. 

They had learned, for instance, that they must se- 
cure their silk from a professional banner-making 
firm, for the silk of the department store was neither 
wide enough nor of a quality to endure the hard wear 
that a banner must endure. From this same banner 
house they bought linen canvas to serve as interlining 
for both the front and the back of the banner. 

Several tricks that were of great help to them they 
had jotted down when they discussed banner making 
at Chautauqua and now they were more than ever 
glad that they had the notebook habit. 

The front of their banner was to be white and to 
bear the letters “R. H. S.” for Rosemont High 
School, and below it “1915.” They remembered 
that in padding the lettering they must make it stand 
high in order to look effective, but they must never 


240 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

work it tight or it would draw. Another point 
worth recalling was that while the banner was still 
in the embroidery frame and was held taut they 
should put flour paste on the back of the embroidery 



to replace the pressing which was not possible with 
letters raised so high. 

When it came to putting the banner together they 
found that their work was not easy or near its end. 
They cut the canvas interlining just like the outside, 


GRADUATION 


241 


and then turned back the edge of the canvas. This 
was to prevent the roughness cutting through the 
silk when that should be turned over the canvas. 
Back and front were stitched and the edges pressed 
separately, and then they were laid back to back and 
were stitched together. The row of machine stitch- 
ing was covered by gimp. 

A heavy curtain pole tipped with a gilt ball served 
as a standard and was much cheaper than the pole 
offered by the professionals. The cross bar tipped 
at each end by gilt balls, was fastened to the pole 
by a brass clamp. The banner itself was held evenly 
by being laced on to the crossbar. 

The cord had been hard to find in the correct 
shade and the girls had been forced to buy white 
and have it dyed. A handsome though worn pair 
of curtain tassels which they found in Grandmother 
Emerson’s attic had been re-covered with finer cord 
of the same color. The entire effect was harmonious 
and the work was so shipshape as to call forth the 
admiration of Mr. Wheeler and all the teachers who 
had a private view on the day when it was finished. 
The girls were mightily proud of their achievement. 

“It has been one of the toughest jobs I ever un- 
dertook,” declared Ethel Brown, “but Vm glad to do 
it for Roger and for the school.” 

With the graduation past all Rosemont, young 
and old, gave their attention to preparing for a safe 
and sane Fourth of July. Of course the U. S. C. 
were as eager as any not only to share in the fun 
but to help in the work. 

One piece of information was prominently ad- 
48 


242 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

vertised; it was a method of rendering children’s 
garments fire-proof. “If garments are dipped in 
a solution of ammonium phosphate in the proportion 
of one pound to a gallon of cold water, they are 
made fire-proof,” read a leaflet that was handed in 
at every house in the town. “Ammonium phosphate 
costs but 25 cents a pound,” it went on. “A family 
wash can be rendered fire-proof at an expense of 1 5 
cents a week.” 

The U. S. C. boys handed out hundreds of these 
folders when they went about among the business 
men and arranged for contributions for the celebra- 
tion. The girls took charge of the patriotic tab- 
leaux that were to be given on the steps of the high 
school, with the onlookers gathered on the green 
where the Christmas tree and the Maypole had 
stood. 

“We must have large groups,” said Helen. “In 
the first place the Rosemonters must be getting tired 
of seeing us time after time, and in the next place 
this is a community affair and the more people there 
are in it the more interested the townspeople will 
be.” 

The selection of the people who would be suitable 
and the invitating of them to take part required 
many visits and much explanation, but the U. S. C. 
had learned to be thorough and there was no neg- 
lect, no leaving of matters until the last minute in 
the hope that “it will come out right.” 

“It seems funny not to be waked up at an un- 
earthly hour by a fierce racket,” commented Roger 


GRADUATION 


243 

on the morning of the Fourth. “I’m not quite sure 
that I like it.” 

“That’s because you’ve always helped make the 
racket. As you grow older you’ll be more and more 
glad every year that there isn’t anything to rouse 
you to an earlier breakfast on Fourth of July morn- 
mg. 

The family ate the morning meal in peace and 
then prepared for the procession that was to gather 
in the square. This procession was to be different 
from the Labor Day procession, which was one ad- 
vertising the trades and occupations of Rosemont. 
To-day was a day for history, and the floats were to 
represent episodes in the town’s history. Roger was 
to be an Indian, George Foster one of the early 
Swedish settlers, and Gregory Patton a Revolution- 
ary soldier. None of the girls were to be on the 
floats. The procession was to be given over to the 
men and boys. 

It was long and as each float had been carefully 
arranged and the figures strikingly posed the whole 
effect was one that gave great pleasure to all who 
saw it. 

A community luncheon followed on the green. 
Tables were set on the grass, and the girls from 
every part of town unpacked baskets and laid cloths 
and waited on the guests who came to this new form 
of picnic quite as if they never had ceased to do these 
agreeable neighborly acts. 

The girls had tired feet after all their running 
around, but they rested for an hour and were fresh 


244 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

again when it was time for the tableaux as the sun 
was sinking. 

The high school was approached by a wide flight 
of steps and on these Helen posed her scenes. The 
people below sat on the grass in the front rows and 
stood at the back. The floats of the morning had 
been scenes of local history. These were scenes 
from the life of Washington. Washington, the 
young surveyor, strode into the woods with his com- 
panions and his Indian attendants. Washington be- 
came commander-in-chief of the Continental army. 
Washington crossed the Delaware — and the U. S. C. 
boys were glad that they had built the Jason at the 
Glen Point orphanage and did not have to study 
out the entire construction anew. Washington and 
Lafayette and Steuben shook hands in token of eter- 
nal friendship. Washington reviewed his troops un- 
der an elm at Cambridge. Washington suffered with 
his ragged men at Valley Forge. Then Cornwallis 
surrendered, and last of all, the great general bade 
farewell to his officers and retired to the private life 
from which he was soon to be summoned to take the 
presidential chair. 

There were a hundred people in the various pic- 
tures, but the winter’s experiences had taught the 
Club so much that they found no trouble in manag- 
ing the whole affair. Each person had been made 
responsible for furnishing his costume, a sketch of 
which had been made for him by Ethel Blue, and 
every one was appropriately dressed. 

“This is another success for you young people,” 
exclaimed Mr. Wheeler, shaking hands with them 


GRADUATION 245 

all. “I always know where to go when I want 
help.” 

Ethel Blue walked home with Miss Merriam, who 



Washington became commander-in-chief of the Continental Army 

was wheeling Elisabeth. She seemed much gayer 
than she had been for a long time. 

Ethel kissed her as well as her sleepy little charge 
as she went into the house to put on a warmer dress 


2 46 ETHEL MORTON’S HOLIDAYS 

before she should go out in the evening to see the 
community fireworks. 

“You a-nd Elisabeth are my helpers,” she whis- 
pered gratefully. “You make everybody happy — 
except, perhaps — ” 

Ethel hesitated, for Gertrude had never men- 
tioned Edward to her since he left for Oklahoma. 

“Do you want to know what was in my May 
basket?” 

Ethel clasped her hands. 

“Oh, yes!” 

Gertrude took out of her cardcase a tattered bit 
of paper. It read: “When you know that you 
really like Oklahoma and all the people there, please 
telegraph me. Good-bye.” 

“I telegraphed this morning,” she said, almost 
shyly. “I said ‘Oklahoma interests me.’ ” 

“Here comes the telegraph boy down the street 
now,” cried Ethel. 

Gertrude took the yellow envelope from him, and, 
before she opened it, signed the book painstakingly. 
When she had read the message she handed it to 
Ethel Blue. 

“I start for Rosemo-nt on the tenth to investigate 
the truth of the rumor.” 

Gertrude bubbled joyously. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Ethel Blue softly. “That 
means you’re engaged!” 


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